The Help in the Haunting
by ecv
Summary: Takes place after Season 12. Booth and Brennan have an unusual experience in the woods, leading to a case to solve. But someone or something isn't making it easy for them. Happy Halloween!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So work is ridiculously busy and it's not getting any better. But this is how I distract myself when I get too stressed, so I started something a little different.

Halloween is my favorite. Ghosts and goblins and spooky stories told in the dark. I love it all. So here's my contribution to my favorite time of year. One story, told one chapter a day for 31 days. Each chapter about 1,000 words is my goal so expect shorter but faster updates.

Can I keep up? Probably not. But I'm going to try. That means each chapter will be edited a little less so I apologize for any mistakes I don't catch.

This takes place someplace after the end of season 12. The Lab is back in business, but Cam has not returned. Some suspension of disbelief, or the willingness to believe in ghosts is required.

No angst, which is unusual for me. Just a case and a ghost and time with our favorite imaginary duo.

As always, I don't own Bones. Thanks for reading and for the reviews I hope to get.

Happy Fall and Happy Halloween.

"Where are we?" Brennan asked. Peering out the window into the darkness, she tried to discern anything that looked familiar. But the inky black on a moonless night made seeing anything outside the SUV impossible.

Booth glanced at the GPS unit mounted on his dash. "No idea," he admitted with a sigh. "I made that last turn then nothing. I haven't seen a house or another road for at least thirty minutes. Maybe an hour. How is it possible to not see any roads for an hour?" He asked, not really expecting an answer. None of this made sense. "We should probably turn around."

The GPS had quit working after he'd made that last turn. Brennan reached forward and clicked it off and on again for the second time. "I didn't know where we were," she said. "We could go back but then I don't know which way to turn when we find the original intersection. I should probably make comment about men not stopping to ask for directions," she tried to joke.

He snorted. "Have you seen a place to stop?" Stopping in the middle of the road, no car had passed them the entire time they'd been lost, Booth turned toward her. "This was a stupid idea," he grumbled. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. "We couldn't even find who we wanted to talk to and now we can't find our way home."

They'd left the city hours before, asking Angela to take their children for the night. It had seemed simple enough. An hour drive north, an hour for the interview, then an hour to return home. Three hours, four at the most, before they had their house to themselves for the rest of the evening. A rare occurrence with two active children who didn't always like to go to sleep.

But four hours had come and gone and midnight was rapidly approaching. They had no idea where they were or where they'd been for the last hour. The GPS had quit working and no amount of restarting it, or banging with a fist had started it again. And their cell phones didn't have signals either.

"What do you want to do?" Brennan asked. It could have been worse. Yes, it was dark and yes, they were definitely lost. But Booth was with her. Neither of them were alone. If they had to keep driving through the night to find their way home again, there were worse people to be stuck with.

"Not be lost," he said, a grimace flashing across his face. "I don't get lost," he grumbled to himself. "I can't remember the last time I was lost."

"In Afghanistan perhaps," she suggested.

Booth wasn't sure if the comment was supposed to make him feel better or worse. "I didn't get lost over there, Bones. I don't get lost when I drive." He sighed heavily and stared out the windshield. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. Because there was no denying the simple fact that neither of them had a clue where they were. "At least the kids aren't with us."

Having already considered the same thing, Brennan simply nodded. "Let's just keep going for a few more minutes. The road doesn't appear to be a dead end. Logically, it has to come out somewhere. If we have to, we'll pull over and sleep in the SUV until the sun comes up."

A groan was his response to that idea. Not only would he not sleep, wanting to be sure Bones was safe, his back would suffer the indignity for a week.

Her hand reached out to grasp his briefly. "We've been in worse situations, Booth," she reminded him. "There are no serial killers chasing us, and we aren't separated from each other."

His warm chuckle filled the car. "Are you always so optimistic in the middle of the night?" Then he sobered again. "I know you aren't always comfortable in the dark." That he blamed himself for this wasn't worth saying. She would know how he felt.

"No I'm not.." Pulling her hand back, she folded it with the other in her lap. "But we aren't in danger right now. There are no cars buried beneath the ground or places we can't escape from. So let's just keep going."

But his eyes didn't leave the silhouette of her face and Brennan finally turned to look at him. "I am fine," she said again. Her voice took on a tone of impatience. "Drive, Booth."

It was clearly an order. "Into the deep dark forest," he intoned, putting the vehicle back in drive. "Because I don't see a single light ahead of us in the darkness. Just trees and more trees."

Pressing the gas gently, he kept the vehicle well below the speed limit, enabling them to better see any signs or indications of a house where they might be able to find some assistance.

But there was nothing. Just trees and the occasional deer whose eyes reflected the headlights back to them. The tires hummed along the pavement, clearly audible over the silence that held reign in the interior of the SUV.

The sound changed when it was no longer pavement beneath the tires, but gravel. Booth swore creatively and Brennan cringed next to him. "It appears to be a driveway rather than a road," she pointed out, trying to stay calm in the face of his sheer frustration. "But I don't remember turning off the road we've been on. Perhaps we haven't been on a road at all."  
The explanation sounded ridiculous even to her. They'd been following the same path, making no turns for a significant amount of time. It would have to be the longest driveway in history. "Where are we?" she whispered, not expecting an answer.

Booth didn't offer one. He slammed on the brakes, bringing them to a stop again. The trees were closer now since they'd left the pavement and there was no way to easily turn the vehicle around. "I'm backing us out of here," he said sharply. Inhaling to maintain what was left of his patience, he slammed the vehicle in reverse.

A gentle press to the accelerator and the vehicle lurched back. Before it sputtered and died.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2 - Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. I hope everyone continues to enjoy it. One day closer to Halloween!_

The darkness settled on them like a blanket. Without the lights from the dash, there was nothing that provided even the smallest illumination. The silence was also deep, broken only by the hoot of an owl from a nearby tree.

And Booth's angry reaction to what had just happened. Until he fell silent.

There was nothing. No light to guide them back to where they'd been. No way to move forward. No reassuring sounds of traffic or headlights of other cars breaking the darkness.

For a solid minute, neither of them moved. Their breathing filled the interior of the SUV, but neither of them spoke, not sure what to say.

"So many ways that I wanted to spend tonight with you," Booth said. His voice was barely above a whisper, regret clear. "None of them involved this. Hell, they didn't even involve clothes."

Yeah, she knew exactly how he felt. Her plans had been very similar.

Throwing around blame wasn't going to help. Instead, the two of them racked their brains, trying to come up with a solution that didn't involve sitting in the SUV for the rest of the night.

It was Booth who kept talking. "A driveway implies a house, Bones," he said, thinking of the comment made before the vehicle died. "A mailbox at the end of the lane. God damn it. There is nothing out here."

If the swearing only moments before had been creative, what he did now was on another level. Brennan fought the smile that threatened despite their situation, then finally gave up and laughed softly next to him.

In the darkness, Booth couldn't see her face, but he heard that quiet laugh. He turned his head to look at her, her profile coming into view as his eyes adjusted. "You think this is funny?" he growled.

She sobered immediately. Then sighed. "At this point, what else is there to do? We are now lost, our phones don't work, the GPS quit and your SUV, which has never failed us in the past, has died. This is a comedy of mishaps." There was a pause before she continued. "And I knew soldiers were creative in their swearing, but you seem particularly inspired tonight."

"Okay, I get it," he said. A fist thumped down on the steering wheel in frustration. "But I have no intention of walking back toward, whatever there is behind us, in the dark. So do we now wander around or sleep in the SUV?"

"I understand our situation," she said coolly. "But before you totally lose what little patience you have left, maybe you could just get out and lift the hood and do that thing you do in the garage."

Her voice was just this side of annoyed and Booth knew the best choice he could do for both of them was tamp down his own emotions. The last thing he needed was the two of them arguing in the middle of the woods. The image was very clear in his head and Booth shook his head to dispel it. "That thing I do in the garage?" he echoed. "You mean work on my classic car?"

"Yes, that," she agreed. "You've managed to get that running when it quits. Even though there are times I think you go out there just to be alone."

Of course, that's exactly what I do, he wanted to answer. Me and every other guy out there. Wisely, he kept that tidbit to himself.

Booth, not seeing the point in trying to explain the differences in two engines that were made more than fifty years apart, reached for the handle and exited the vehicle. Reaching back in, he released the hood. His footsteps were loud on the gravel as he made his way to the back to retrieve the flashlight he kept there.

Brennan waited for him next to the front of the SUV. Turning the flashlight on, he handed it to her, lifting the hood before taking it back again.

He didn't know why he'd even bothered. There was no way he was going to figure out what was going on. There were no tools and it was dark. But he moved the flashlight around and pretended to test a couple of connections just so he could tell Bones that he'd tried.

Sometime during his failed inspection of the engine, she'd wandered toward the open back and sat down. As Booth came into her view, she looked up hopefully. His only answer was a shake of his head.

"I don't know, Bones," he admitted, coming to sit next to her. With her safely next to him, he turned off the light to conserve the battery. "I know you don't believe in bad luck, or fate, but this whole thing seems ridiculous."

"Blaming this on fate or luck is ridiculous," she said, but kept her voice light to avoid the inevitable disagreements that often followed. Her feet swung back and forth as she stared off into the darkness. "But, for the sake of argument, if there was such a thing as fate, why did it bring us here?"

His shoulder rubbed against hers when he lifted it. "To find something? To get us to spend time together? Hell if I know."

In silence they sat, listening to the sounds of the night around them. They'd spent time camping; it wasn't their first time in the woods. But there was no tent or warm sleeping bags to snuggle up in. And they always knew where they were.

This? This was creepy, though neither of them would admit the feeling to the other. "What seat do you want to sleep in?" he asked when the silence became oppressive. "If this won't start when the sun comes up," he said, slapping the vehicle with an open palm, "we can either start walking or wait for someone to find us."

Brennan looked mournfully at her perfectly sensible flats. Their dark color made them blend into the night. "I wish I'd worn better shoes."

"I'm sorry," Booth apologized. "This is my fault."

"We are in this together, Booth. It's not your fault. Or mine. We'll be fine."

Knowing she was usually honest, Booth sighed. "If you say so. There are a couple blankets buried in the back. Let's see if we can pull them out and then try to find a way to get comfortable. It's going to be a few hours until the sun starts to come up. And it's going to feel like forever."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follows and favorites. Nothing super serious in this story. I hope everyone is having fun. _

Booth came around the front of the SUV with both blankets in his arms. The musty smell was hard to ignore, but they couldn't afford to be picky. They weren't in danger of freezing, it wasn't that cold, but at least they'd be warm while they tried to get some sleep.

He couldn't understand what had happened. Their GPS had indicated the last turn, which they'd followed. Then it died before it could tell them what to do next. But they should have been able to turn around and make their way back to the beginning.

Why hadn't they done so instead of continuing deeper and deeper into the countryside?

Then the phones lost service. But still they didn't turn around. And the road narrowed. Soon, it was made of gravel instead of pavement. But not once, until the very last moment, had either of them thought to simply go back the way they'd come.

And when he'd finally tried, the SUV had quit too.

What had happened to the two of them, Booth didn't understand. But he didn't like it.

They'd been heading back to DC. There should have been cars, traffic, people. It took hours of driving to escape the reach of the millions of people that lived there. Yet, somehow, after an amount of time in the SUV that should have put them in their driveway, Booth was sure they were further away than they'd been when they'd started.

If you're guiding us, Booth thought, casting his eyes toward the heavens, you need to be a bit clearer with your directions.

He hated the thought of her spending the night out here. There was no doubt she'd remind him that there were worse places to sleep. They had experienced both. But they were two responsible adults and his wife was a genius. Doing something like this when it wasn't by choice made him very, very unhappy.

"Booth?" she called out, her voice loud. "Any luck?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking himself. "I found both of them. But they don't smell very good." Reaching out, he handed her one and smiled when she wrinkled her nose slightly.

With no ambient light, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness. They couldn't see far, or well. But standing this close, Booth easily interpreted the emotions that flashed across her face.

"It could be worse," he heard her whisper. It was clear she was reminding herself of that fact.

"Only if it rains," Booth mumbled before looking up again. While there was no moon, there were stars visible. It looked like they'd at least avoid getting wet.

For now.

Because he couldn't decide how long it would take for them to be found if the SUV wouldn't start. There were no electronics to help searchers find them. And he didn't figure anyone would know they were missing until they failed to pick up the kids from Angela's. And they weren't due until after lunch.

He couldn't even contemplate how long they might have to walk before the phones had service again.

"I can hear the wheels turning," Brennan said, trying out the phrase and deciding she'd gotten it right. "Listing all the problems won't help us, Booth. One thing at a time."

Dejectedly, he kicked a tire, knowing she was right. "Lay down in the back," he said easily. "And take both the blankets. I'll be fine."

He didn't need light to know her eyes had darkened in anger. He loved that color despite the emotion that came with it.

The argument was already echoing in his head before she spoke. "You are sitting back there with me. We'll share the blankets and stay close to each other to share body heat."

"Doesn't that work better if we're both naked?" Booth asked, trying to make a joke. He shoved the blanket he still had in his arms toward her. "Just take it, Bones. I won't sleep anyway."

Arguing seemed useless. "Neither will I," she said to him. In the distance something howled and she jumped slightly. It had been a long time since she'd been isolated in the woods at night. Sure, there'd been murders and bodies, but there were also techs and lights illuminating the scenes. Here, there was just nothing.

Seeing the jump, Booth reached out with a free arm and pulled her to him. She clutched the blankets to her chest. "If you aren't sleeping, neither am I," she said. There was a stubbornness in the claim. But Booth could feel the way she leaned against him in exhaustion.

"Get in the back," he said again. While the words were clearly an order, his voice was gentle. "I'll sit next to you, okay?" It was his best chance to get her to rest.

The disagreement didn't come. Without a word, she climbed into the back seat and waited for him. Booth left the door open, sitting near the edge so he could exit quickly. Next to him, Brennan wiggled around until she was covered the blankets, her head coming to rest on his thigh.

His hand dropped automatically to her hair, beginning to move in a pattern that was designed to sooth.

"You'll be here when I wake up?" she asked, the words slurring slightly.

"I'll be here," he said, continuing to stroke her hair. When her breathing evened out, his hand stilled, but remained in contact with her. When he'd been a sniper, he'd stayed in the same position for hours and he prepared himself to do the same here. As long as Bones was comfortable next to him, he'd be okay.

"Sorry," his whispered to her again. He hated to cause her discomfort and it had been his idea to leave the city. They should have just stayed home.

It was cool, but Booth wasn't uncomfortable. With the door open, he could hear the sounds of the night. There were things he could identify, the hoot of the owl that remained nearby, and others he could not. Still it was something to keep his mind occupied and it entertained him for a little while.

Parker would have considered this a great adventure. And when they made it back to civilization, Booth would call and tell him the whole thing. Probably give him ideas for whatever writing he was currently working on.

A careful movement of his arm allowed him to see his watch. Only an hour had passed and there were still more to go before the sun rose. There should have been nothing to see as the blackness became as deep as the hour, but when he lifted his eyes again, there was light in the distance.

It hadn't been there before. They had spent several minutes looking for any signs of light, of human habitation. She was sleeping next to him in the back of the SUV because there had been nothing.

If he looked toward it, it was almost impossible to discern, so he shifted his eyes slightly to the side, allowing it to come into better focus. At first, it remained still, but finally after what Booth figured was about five minutes, it moved slowly closer.

With movements both slow and deliberate, Booth reached for his gun. Bones remained asleep and he hesitated to wake her. Around him, the forest had gone silent, a sign that something was wrong in the woods.

Everything was still. A bubble that would pop if he moved too fast or breathed too deeply. It felt fragile. And so very wrong. Every cell in his body was screaming at him but Booth couldn't understand the message.

The gun felt weird in his hand and he fought the urge to put it away. Something that made no sense. Shaking his head hard to chase the notion away, he watched the light approach until it stopped, close enough for him to see it clearly.

He should wake Bones, but he didn't. Another decision that went against his normal actions. It seemed normal had left the vicinity several minutes ago.

It was more than just light now and his heart rate increased rapidly.

"Holy shit," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again. And then fell silent, trying to understand what he was seeing.


	4. Chapter 4

A figure stood in the circle of light. Female, Booth cataloged quickly. Long hair, t-shirt and jeans. Sneakers on her feet. A look in her eyes that had the hair on Booth's arms rising.

She wasn't real. Of that, he was certain. But for something that wasn't real, it was certainly clear. No wispy, insubstantial figure for this. Nope, this was coming through quite well.

The conclusion that she wasn't a living, breathing woman concerned him more than anything else that was happening. He knew he should wake Bones, but chose not to. If she saw the figure, she would spend the rest of her life trying to rationalize it. And Booth wasn't certain he wanted to deal with the arguments that would follow.

If she wasn't real, if she existed only in his mind, that raised all sorts of things that Booth couldn't think about right then.

So Booth sat, paralyzed as they seemed to stare at each other. She didn't speak, and for that he was thankful. At least he could pretend there was no chance this could be a recurrence of his brain tumor. If she didn't speak, if he didn't interact with the image, then this was different than the first time. That difference was something he needed to hold on to.

Eye color wasn't clear, unless glowing white was a choice. And he pegged her height at about five six. Young, not much more than a child. But other than that, there were no discernable features, nothing that made Booth think he'd met this woman before.

Another difference, he noted, adding it to the list he was now keeping in his head. His early hallucinations had all been people he recognized. This woman was not familiar.

Awful clear for a ghost, Booth thought, not daring to speak. As long as he didn't talk, Bones wouldn't wake and he wouldn't be forced to answer the questions she would inevitably ask.

When the ghost, hallucination, woman didn't move or disappear, Booth finally nodded in acknowledgement. Because there was a part of him, the superstitious believe in miracles part that he didn't often share with Bones, that believed in ghosts and the supernatural. So if this wasn't his brain misfiring, then this was a ghost. And if that was the case, then she didn't appear without a reason.

Despite the tumor and the explanations that Bones gave, Booth believed Teddy had been with him when he'd been attempting to escape the Gravedigger's trap. Teddy's help and suggestions had saved his life. Ghosts were real and the fact that he'd survived to sit in this SUV with his wife's head resting on his thigh was all the proof he needed.

She didn't respond to his nod and continued to stare. Around them, the forest remained silent, the lack of noise another item on Booth's list. Surely, if this was only in his head, then the animals would continue to make noise. But there was nothing. Just a preternatural silence that indicated something was out of place.

Knowing it would haunt him if he didn't try, Booth raised his hand to point behind her and then raised his open hand to indicate a question. Had she come from there? Was there something back there that she wanted them to find?

Okay, Booth thought, I can work with this. He was an investigator and while up until this point, he'd only ever questioned the living, but he could evolve. Bones would be proud of him if she ever heard about this.

The nod was slow in coming. And Booth had kind of given up on the idea of getting a response he could understand. But there was no mistaking the slow up and down movement of her head.

"Okay," he said. But the sound of his voice broke some sort of spell. Bones stirred beneath his hand and when he looked down and back up again, the woman had turned away from him. Soon, she was nothing more than the ball of light he'd first spotted deep in the woods. Another breath and it blinked out entirely.

But he had a direction. There was something back there, if he continued to believe in this explanation he was creating. There was a house or a barn or a shed there that they needed to go find.

If it was just her body, because Booth harbored no illusions that she was anything but dead, they might never find her. Especially if she'd been left on the ground. And he'd be right back to the beginning, wondering if the tumor was back and worried that he was going to leave Bones behind to raise his family.

Brennan was awake, trying to orient herself to where she was, why she was sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. When his hand clamped down on her shoulder, she gave a small gasp and came fully awake, the memories of where they were and why flooding back.

"You good, Booth?" she asked. Sitting up, she caught his wide eyed and slightly panicked look before he blinked and it was gone. Blaming the emotion she saw on the lack of light, and her inability to see him better, she waited for an explanation.

"I thought I saw something in the trees. A light or something. It was there, but it's gone now. Maybe a house or something," he offered simply.

There was a ring of truth to it, but also something else she couldn't read. Tension and perhaps a touch of fear which made no sense to her at all. "Should we try to walk to it?" she asked.

Booth glanced her way. "It's dark, there are trees. Wild animals. I think we should probably wait until the sun comes up a little to head that way. It will probably be quicker than waiting for someone to come find us."

"You really think they will?" she asked. Her voice was resigned, accepting the situation and knowing it was probably up to the two of them to get themselves out of it. "Your mysterious light in the woods is probably a better solution."

"Yeah," Booth said. But his eyes shifted from her and back toward where he'd claimed to see the light. "I'm sure that way is a much better option."

They both chose to ignore the lack of reassurance in his voice.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. I'm glad everyone is enjoying our little adventure._

The weak light could barely be called dawn when they stepped away from the SUV and into the woods. Under the canopy of trees, it was barely light enough to see where they walked and each stepped carefully, not wanting to add an injury on top of everything else.

Brennan already knew she'd be adding a decent pair of shoes to the bag of supplies they kept in the back of the SUV.

There was also the fog that had suddenly settled over them. Thick and heavy, their clothes were quickly becoming damp. The trees, which had been so clear before, were now hidden in a layer of white that seemed impenetrable.

It gave everything a spectral quality. Booth was starting to wonder if the entire forest was haunted.

If Brennan was unsure about what they were doing, she kept it to herself and for that Booth was thankful. There were no explanations that he could give, that he wanted to give, that would make sense to her.

She'd accepted his explanation of a light in the woods. One that had appeared and disappeared during the time she slept. And it hadn't been a lie, not really, he told himself. He just left out the part where the figure of a woman stood in the center of that light.

And Booth had no desire to scare her. Mentioning a woman of glowing white stepping out of the darkness would. She would try to hide it, try to make both of them feel better with her logic and her science, but Booth knew exactly where her thoughts would go.

It was the same place his own kept going, even when he did his best to stop them. Booth had seen things before. And that time, it hadn't led to anything good.

Knowing he'd feel better if he found something, anything, in the direction they were walking, he kept pressing forward. The flashlight was initially pointed at their feet, but the fog reflected the light back to him and he finally just turned it off.

On or off, it didn't really help anyway. The fog was thick, making it hard to see very far in front of them.

Behind him, Brennan's eyes kept drifting from her feet to his back. The stress he carried on his shoulders was obvious to her. The cause was not as clear.

They weren't hurt, simply stranded. And while the circumstances were unusual, there wasn't anything that couldn't be explained by simple logic. Nothing occurring that should have been impacting him that much.

Her mind went back to the panicked look in his eyes when she'd first woke. What had he seen in the darkness while she slept at his side? What could have caused him to appear afraid, an emotion she rarely saw when it came to him.

Nervous? Many times. Concerned? Definitely? But outright fear? Rarely. Almost never.

She wanted to stop him from walking. To put a hand on his arm and ask him what was going on.

But she hesitated. Trusting him to talk to her when he was ready made it hard for her to push for an explanation now. Soon, she told herself, he'd share it with her.

"There's no path here," she pointed out, just to have something to say. The silence that had fallen around them felt oppressive. Not wanting to give voice to such a ridiculous notion, she'd said the first thing she could think of.

"There is," he argued. Pausing, he waited until she stepped next to him. "It's subtle. Overgrown. But there used to be something here. A trail. Not much more than that."

He pointed, trying to show her with his hands what was almost impossible to see. But after a moment, she was willing to concede there might be something. But it was hard to see past the fog and her concerns for Booth.

"But it isn't more than a footpath, Booth. I can't believe there would be a structure at the end of it. Much less one that someone is living in. Or one that had a light shining from a window."

His fingers pinched hard on the bridge of his nose. "I know, Bones. But we don't have another choice." _I don't have another choice._

It was there again. That hint of fear that he was so desperately trying to keep secret. But they'd been through too much together over the years for him to be able to completely hide things from her.

And since his relapse and recovery from gambling, he hadn't tried.

She gave in to the urge to touch him. When his hand dropped from his face, she reached out to grab it. "What's going on, Booth?"

HIs eyes widened slightly before closing and opening again. She thought he was going to ignore her, but eventually dark eyes turned to her.

"I can't answer that right now, Bones." His sigh was loud and his eyes begged her to let it go. "I just...just need you to trust me right now. There's something here. Through this fog, just beyond the trees, it's there."

Keeping his hand in hers, she flicked her eyes to the side then back toward him. "Booth," she said hesitantly.

"If there isn't, we'll talk. I promise. But right now, I need to see it, to keep walking. It shouldn't be much farther." His tone was pleading, hoping she'd continue with him and not ask any more questions.

Finally she nodded and this time his sigh was relieved. "I want an explanation," she demanded, but moved past him to continue walking.

"You'll get one," he promised, knowing if there wasn't a house, or cabin or burned out structure up ahead, he didn't have a choice.

The only sound between them after that was the snapping of twigs beneath their feet. Booth, too nervous to think of anything to say, just kept walking.

Brennan spent the time trying to figure out what was going on with her husband.

When she froze in place and gasped, Booth assumed she was trying to catch her breath. Mentally, he prepared himself for the conversation that was coming, trying to figure out a way to ease her into it.

Saw a woman in the middle of the night and my brain tumor might be back. It seemed too blunt, even for a woman who often relayed her own thoughts that way.

Turning to look back at him, the shocked look on her face had him forgetting the conversation and hurrying to her side. "How is this here?" she asked. The path behind was obscured by the fog, but it didn't stop her from turning back to try and see the SUV behind them.

"What?" Booth said. "What do you see?" But the fog was shifting and the words trailed off until silence fell again.

His hand grasped hers suddenly. He looked down at her and back up again.

He wasn't crazy. There really was something out there.

And he'd found it because of a one sided conversation with a ghost.

Okay, maybe he was crazy.

"That's a big cabin," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a ridiculous thing to say. But it was an accurate description of what was appearing out of the fog.

"Hand built," Brennan said next to him. "The windows, the porch. The way the logs fit together. Someone did this by hand. Impressive considering there is a second floor."

"Of course it was. Why else would be out here?" Booth grumbled. "All the haunted places look like this."

No roads or clear trails led to it. If someone wanted to hide something, it was the perfect place to do it. Booth knew when he returned to civilization it would be a waste of time to look for records. There wouldn't be building permits or anything else that would record its existence. Thousands of places like this existed in the woods. Built off the grid and away from what the builder thought was government interference.

"Haunted places?" Brennan scoffed, dropping his hand to start walking forward again. It seemed like a random comment, but Booth rarely said or did anything that was random. She gave him a curious glance. "It's an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods. Nothing haunted about that. Neglected and forgotten doesn't mean haunted. Not," she tossed back over her shoulder, "that I believe in such things."

As if he'd thought for a minute that she might believe. That belief was half the reason he hadn't told her the truth yet. But she had followed him into the woods without much comment. Maybe there was a part of her that believed a little?

She might not think the place was haunted, but it certainly fit the part. It was clear from the condition of the cabin that no one had lived there or visited for many many years.

No broken windows and the door was still securely closed. But the porch roof was leaning to one side and the logs had long faded to a weathered gray. It was slowly, but steadily, losing its battle to the elements.

Brennan had paused to turn back toward him. Booth remained standing in place, wondering what they would find if they went inside. Where would the skeleton of some poor young woman be hidden?

Seeing her look, he shook himself and started forward. "Do you think there is a phone inside?"

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You can't be serious. There is no phone. We won't find any help here. Our best bet is to go back to the SUV and wait."

"No. Absolutely not." Voice resolute, decision made, he kept walking right past her. "How often have you come across an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods? We aren't leaving without looking around inside."

"Breaking and entering?" she asked, trying to figure out what was going on with him. He might have claimed to see a light from this place, but that wasn't possible. There was about as much chance of there being electricity here as there was finding a phone.

He threw up his hands. "Yes, I'm going to break into the cabin that no one even remembers is out here. I'm going to hope to find a working phone or at this point even a working light. Maybe some water or some food. Then, when none of that works, because I'm not as foolish as you think I am, I'm going to go back to the SUV and try to figure out what the hell is wrong with it and how the hell we ended up out in the middle of nowhere to begin with."

He was breathing hard at the end and didn't dare to look at her. He looked down at his feet, kicking at the leaves and sticks in a fit of furious frustration.

She'd remained still during his tirade, waiting until he ran out of steam. Realizing that he'd run out of patience and was worried about something he wasn't sharing, she nodded. Better to just go along with it than give him something else to be annoyed about. "That plan sounds entirely logical," she said. Even if it didn't. "And I never said you were foolish."

He grabbed her arm, preventing her from walking away from him. "Sorry, Bones," he apologized. His eyes were dark with regret. "I'm tired and hungry. Shouldn't take it out on you."

"And stressed about something," she added softly.

He stared at her before giving a small nod of acknowledgement. "Not yet," he said, reaching up to run his fingers down her cheek. It was cool and slightly damp from the fog.

The touch was meant to soothe, but it made her stomach tighten. "It's fine," she said quickly. A step toward the cabin forced him to drop his hand. "Maybe you can take some of that stress out on the door if we find that it's locked."

Booth nodded and led them toward the porch. He stepped gingerly, testing each tread before climbing up the steps, Despite the lean of the porch, it still felt as if it would support their weight. It creaked ominously when he first stepped on it, but after that initial protest, appeared to be solid.

Prepared to break the door down, Booth was surprised when the knob turned easily beneath his hand. Given the location, though, there probably wasn't much of a chance of someone breaking in. When it creaked much as the porch had, he let out a humorless laugh. "This place is definitely haunted."

He'd made that comment before. No chance it was random. "This place is abandoned," she disagreed easily, trying to step around him. But Booth's body blocked her path and unless she physically pushed him out of the way, she wasn't getting past him.

"Yes, it is." Stepping over the threshold, he turned the flashlight back on. Between the fog, the dust on the windows and the general design of it, very little light penetrated the interior.

Brennan stepped inside as Booth whistled softly. "This place is like a time capsule," he said. He pointed the light toward the floor, the dust there not marred by footprints. "No one has been here for a long time."

Furniture remained in place as did various pictures around the room. The photos of nature and hunting scenes did little to make the place less gloomy. The walls they hung on were nothing but bare logs, adding to the abandoned atmosphere.

Brennan looked around, not surprised to see there wasn't a phone. She ran a finger through the dust on a table and wrinkled her nose. "There is nothing useful in here," she said, beginning to lose her patience as well. "So much for that idea."

Busy with his own exploration, Booth flipped a switch for the lights. "No electric either. Maybe there was a generator here at one point since there was clearly never electric lines run to this place." He admitted to himself that he should probably just give up. "Guess we can head back to the SUV."

Even if he didn't want to. Even if he knew that for his own peace of mind, he needed to open every door and look under every bed to make sure nothing was in this cabin.

Brennan watched him. He would never break into a place without a very good reason. Yes, he claimed he'd seen a light from here, but she no longer certain that was the entire truth. Whatever he was doing, it was clear that he wasn't done. No matter what he said.

To his surprise, she disagreed. "You are looking for something here," she said. There was something in her eyes that he couldn't read, especially given the lack of light. "You keep looking until you find it. I'll follow."

"How could you possibly," he started to ask, then shook his head. At that point, it didn't really matter what she knew or how she knew it. "We need to check all the closets," he said. His voice had taken on a grim tone. "Under the beds. Any place a person might conceal something."

Accepting the he would explain when he was ready, she nodded. "Can you tell me what we are looking for?"

He didn't speak for so long, she thought he wasn't going to. It wasn't until he started walking away that he gave an answer.

"A body. We are looking for a body."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Might have made up some information about Booth's tumor, just in case what I wrote in not entirely accurate. But I'm not a doctor. _

The answer made her blink hard, but that was the only reaction he could see. "We'll do a quick search of the lower floor and then move upstairs," she said, planning aloud. "If we don't see anything obvious, we will have to try and find an attic or the basement."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You aren't going to ask any questions. Just follow along after I say something like that?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm not going to ask because you aren't going to tell me. Not yet. If we find something you'll tell me then. And if we don't find anything, you are still going to tell me." Her tone indicated that there was no other option. "So the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I get the answers I want."

There was a chance she might be wrong about that. Because his answers were only going to lead to more questions.

"Fine. Then let's get moving." He motioned with the light toward his left. "We'll start there and work our way around."

So they started. Opened doors and cupboards. Bent down to look under furniture and tables. Neither spoke, but the silence was often broken by a sneeze as they stirred up the dust that hadn't been disturbed in years.

A very short time later, they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Brennan tried to wipe away the dust that coated her hands before giving up. Despite her frustration with the entire situation, a small smile appeared when she noted the streak of dust down Booth's cheek.

He caught her eyes and started brushing at his face. "Just stop," she said, reaching up to grab his hand, "you aren't helping."

Squeezing her hand, Booth tried to convey everything he was feeling with just a simple touch. Because she might have been talking about the dust on his cheek, but that comment could certainly apply to other things.

She looked at their joined hands then back up the stairs. "Ready to search the second floor?"

Was he? Booth wasn't sure. They'd either find what he was searching for or nothing at all. And he wasn't sure what was better. Either someone was already dead or he was potentially dying. Neither option seemed like one he should hope for.

But he forced one foot on the first step and then the second, knowing there was really no other choice. Bones followed behind, but she kept her hand joined with his while they climbed. The stairs were still solid beneath them. "It could be beautiful," she said. "I'm sure it was at some point. Private, away from the world."

"No anthropological comments about how society comes and goes?" he tried to joke. "How nature can't be defeated and its ability to reclaim everything we create is inevitable?"

Her chuckle was soft. "Apparently you are already familiar with that argument. So it appears I don't need to tell you."

At the top of the stairs, they paused, a short hallway opening in front of them. There were

several closed doors. "It's probably safe to split up," he offered. "But I don't want to."

"Then we won't. Let's start to the left again."

The light from the flashlight bounced in front of them as they approached the first door. Together, they entered what had once been a bedroom. The bed remained, covered with a quilt that looked brittle enough to fall apart if they touched it.

Booth bent to look under the bed while she opened a closet. Finding nothing, they continued to the next room and then the next, each yielding the same abandoned bedroom and no body.

Together they faced the last door. Booth shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Bones. We can stop."

"There is only one room left. Then we can regroup and figure out what to do next."

He wanted to just hand her the light and tell her to go ahead. He'd stand at the stairs and wait for her to return and demand an explanation for his crazy behavior. But he would never let her wander off alone. Wordlessly, he stalked to that last door and opened it.

"It appears the explanation is going to be a lot more interesting than I had planned on," she said from behind him. Ducking past him, she walked slowly around the bed.

"There are no clothes, which would indicate our victim was naked at the time of death," she commented, going immediately into investigative mode.

Booth remained in the doorway, stunned by what he was seeing. Eyes wide, he pointed the flashlight at the bed so Bones could see.

"I believe the victim is-"

"Female," Booth interrupted. "Probably around the age of twenty. She was dressed when I saw her." Finally stepping into the room he swung the light from corner to corner. "There's a pile of clothes there. Could be hers."

Brennan bending over the skeleton on the bed, stood slowly. "Female is correct. And your age is within the range I would suggest based on the skeletal remains. Is this part of another case you are working on?"

His mouth dry, Booth swallowed. Time to fess up. "I saw her," he spit out. His voice was low and he looked everywhere but at her. "She walked out of the woods when you were asleep. Then turned and went back. That's why I brought us this way."

When he dared to glance at her, her face was carefully blank. "I know what you're thinking. It's the same thing I've been thinking for hours. And I haven't stopped thinking about it even now that we've managed to find exactly what I said we'd find."

She stepped away from the bed and toward him. The look in his eyes was wild and the panic was clear in his voice. "You need to stop right there, Booth," she commanded softly. Not stopping her forward progress until she invaded his space a cool hand gripped the back of his neck.

The other came up to brush at his hair. "Whatever you saw doesn't have anything to do with this," she said, pressing gently on the side of his skull. "You aren't dying anytime soon. Not of that anyway," she said, knowing there were a thousand other ways he could leave her. But this wasn't one of them.

He leaned toward that hand. "You don't know that," he said miserably.

"When were you at the doctor last, Booth?" she asked him. "When did you have the last scan to check?" Attitude cool and calm she waited for him to get beyond the emotions and to the facts.

It wasn't possible to feel someone think, but in that moment, Brennan could almost feel the thoughts rush past the palm of her hand. "How long, Booth?" she asked again.

Desperately, he tried to come up with an answer to her question. To get past the fear and think logically about it. "Months," he said. "It's been months." His eyes closed, no longer able to deal with what he might see in hers.

"Try weeks. Less than a month. You've got yourself so worried over this that it's messed everything up in your head. We were there only a month ago. And the scan was clear. Whatever you saw out there, whatever you think you saw, didn't have anything to do with your tumor."

His eyes flew open. "Are you sure? Nevermind, you are. So it isn't?" he asked, finally allowing her logic past his own chaotic thoughts.

Blue eyes cool and confident continued to stare into his. "Your type of tumor does not regrow that fast. Your type of tumor typically does not come back after a successful removal. The more time has passed, the less likely it is." Facts. Booth, who relied on emotion too much some times, needed facts. That was something she was good at. "If there was something there causing hallucinations, it would have shown up on the last scan. Of that I am confident. Put that fear away so we can focus on what we've found. You know I need you at your best for things like this."

He knew that was a ridiculous statement. She could do this without his help. But her saying she needed him helped him to focus. "Okay," he said, the breath he released causing his entire body to shudder. Bones didn't lie to him. If she said that wasn't the cause, then he could trust her judgement. But he feared that it wasn't going to be quite that easy to forget.

But for now, he'd have to push it away. There were other things to worry about. "What do you want to do?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: A little early to reset the Fanfiction timer. _

_I played with the geography of the area a bit to make this work..._

_Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to know that people are reading and enjoying the story._

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"I think it's safe to leave everything as it is," Brennan said, considering the room around them. "It is clear from the dust and that fact that it hasn't been disturbed before we arrived that we are the only living people who have been here in years."

He still felt shaky, but pushed it aside. "So you want to go back to the SUV?"

Brennan nodded. "I think that is best. We need help out here, Booth. Call the evidence teams and everything that comes with them. We need to get help out here."

"You think it won't take hours for people to get to us? Maybe not until tomorrow before anyone figures out we're missing?"

"I think that things often look different after the sun comes up," she said to him. "So let's head back and see if anything has changed."

Booth waited until she stepped out of the room before following her and closing the door behind them. As they made their way back down the stairs, it was light enough that he could turn off the flashlight.

"What the hell?" he asked, opening the front door. "I hate this place," he muttered before adding several more things under his breath.

They'd been inside less than an hour. Booth figured the house and the land around it would still be enveloped in the thick fog that had left them feeling damp after walking through it. But it had lifted as quickly as it had come, leaving the cabin bathed in the glow of a beautiful sunrise.

"Nothing around here is normal," Booth said. He kicked at a loose board on the porch as he descended.

"Tell me about what you saw," she ordered softly. To believe him went against everything she'd built her life on. To not believe meant not trusting in Booth. And that was something she didn't know how to do either. Given the choice between the two, it appeared that Booth was going to come first.

It should have been terrifying. Would have been not too long ago.

Now it felt perfectly right.

"See? That's just what I mean." His voice was loud again. "You are taking this way too calmly. That's not normal." Not sure he could handle any more weirdness, he started to count in his head to give him something else to focus on.

At ten, he decided it was a total waste of his time.

He couldn't see her roll her eyes, but was sure she had. "I want to know what you saw. I don't think there is anything abnormal about that."

He walked next to her in silence until he decided to just give in. She hadn't said a word, hadn't made a single gesture, but her impatience with his reticence was coming off her in waves Booth was sure he could see. "You fell asleep next to me. Then there was light in the distance. I looked at you and then back again."

The explanation took the entire walk back to the SUV. When they arrived, Booth turned and looked behind them. "We should be able to see it. Even from here, but the trees hide it well." He leaned back against the vehicle and crossed his arms. "Well, I'm waiting."

"Me, too," she said. "I'm waiting to see if you can get this to start," she said, tapping their transportation with her fingers. "We need to get people out here to help us. As for the other," she continued, ignoring the brown eyes that were staring at her, "there are probably an infinite number of explanations. None of which involve a tumor in your brain. I simply asked about what you saw. Our belief systems will provide differing explanations for it." Her shrug was unconcerned.

She gave a startled gasp when Booth grabbed her and hauled her to him. The move had been unexpected and she was stiff at first, but as his arms came around her, she caught up.

The tension was obvious beneath her fingers and she massaged the back of his neck. "You've had a rough time of it, haven't you?" she whispered next to his ear. "We're lost, strange women are walking out of the woods, you scared yourself and now we've found a crime scene. Quite the twenty-four hours we've had, isn't it?"

Why did people think she was cold? She was warmth and love and he loved her.

Her list of what they'd been through made him chuckle but he didn't lift his head from where he'd pressed it into her neck. "You summed that up nicely," he said, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke. Several deep breaths followed as he took in her scent, allowing it to fully settle him.

When he pulled back, he pressed a hard kiss to her lips and then her forehead. And put his fears away for now. "Let me see if this will start so we can get some people back here."

His confidence appeared to be back and Brennan allowed herself a moment to relax as well.

Booth, hurrying around the front of the vehicle, jumped in and turned the key. When it fired up immediately, he shook his head and waited for Brennan to climb in next to him.

"You realize that's one more thing on the list of things that don't make sense," he commented.

"Well, let's try to keep adding to it," was her response. Reaching out, she turned the GPS off and back on again. It powered up and within minutes indicated exactly where they were.

No longer surprised by anything at this point, Booth didn't waste time shaking his head or commenting. "Do our cell phones have signals?" he asked.

Brennan dug into her pocket for hers, turning it so she could flash the screen at him. "Yes. Five missed calls from Angela, one from Hodgins, and several I recognize as coming from your office."

Pulling out his own phone, Booth read off his own list. "Six from my office, two from Angela and one from Hodgins. I'm surprised that many people were looking for us already. Who wins?"

"It wasn't a contest. I'll call Angela first and let her know we're okay. One of the children probably wanted to talk to us and when she couldn't reach us, I imagine the two of them kept making phone calls. Then I'll talk to Hodgins and get everyone started this way." Her eyes glanced at the now fully functional GPS. "We even have an address."

"How are we at least two hours from the city? And that house appears to be on the far reaches of federal land which shouldn't be possible. Building on federal lands isn't allowed."

"You can't see it from the road," she pointed out. "And people build things illegally all the time. Who would come out here to check?" Opening the door to step back outside, she called Angela.

Booth used the opportunity to make his own phone calls then folded his hands over the steering wheel and rested his forehead against them. It had already been a long night and it didn't appear he was going to get sleep anytime soon.

Rolling his head, he looked through the woods back toward the cabin's location. Now that they'd found her, they just had to figure out who she was.

And who'd killed her.


	9. Chapter 9

"So you got lost in the middle of the night. Managed to find a cabin when you started walking this morning, and then found a skeleton in the cabin?" Angela recapped, camera in hand. She paused long enough to snap several more photographs before taking the camera away from her face again. "And then when you got back to the vehicle everything started working again?"

"Yes, that is accurate," Brennan said. She was bent over the skeleton, cataloging evidence. "Don't forget the pile of clothes in the corner."

Despite the fact she'd already photographed that area of the room, Angela took several more just to appease her friend. "You think this girl arranged things so you would find her?"

"Arranged things?" Brennan echoed. "Are you suggesting that this skeleton made our car break down and got us lost in the woods so we'd wander around and find her?"

The disbelief dripped from Brennan's voice. Still, she was forced to ignore the little voice in her head that reminded her what Booth had seen while she slept. The fact he knew the victim's sex and age before she'd managed to tell him.

Dr. Temperance Brennan didn't believe in ghosts. Had never had any reason to believe that there was life after death. But she hadn't believed in love, either, until she'd opened herself to Booth. And she believed in him. Had faith, as Hodgins had told her all those years ago. It made for an interesting argument.

Angela put one hand on her hip. "How else do you explain it?" she demanded.

Ignoring the question, Brennan indicated several more areas for the techs to sample. The bed beneath the skeleton was rust colored from the blood that had been absorbed there. This was no body dump. This woman, whoever she turned out to be, had been killed while she rested there.

"Bed, clothes, skeleton all need to go back to the Jeffersonian," Brennan ordered. "And make sure you look carefully under the mattress for any other evidence. If the murder weapon was a gun, we may find the bullet lodged in the floor."

The techs assured her the directions would be followed as Brennan pulled off her gloves and led Angela from the room. "This was just a coincidence," she said, finally answering Angela's earlier question. "No other explanation for it."

"Mmmmm," Angela hummed, clearly not agreeing. "Do you seriously think that I was just lucky that day we found Kurt's guide in the desert? That of all the possible directions I could have chosen that I just miraculously picked the right one?"

"I don't believe in miracles either," Brennan said, though that little voice in her head tried to argue with her again. Escaping the Gravedigger, saving Booth from a similar fate, falling in love and building a life with him. Weren't those all some version of a miracle?

She'd heard the story from Angela about that day in the desert. How that...vision...Brennan finally went with, walked past her, giving Angela the clue they'd needed to find the woman just in time. Whether it was true or not, wasn't that story of survival a miracle?

Brennan shook her head. "What do miracles have to do with this? Nothing is going to make that skeleton come back to life."

"You will," Angela disagreed. It had Brennan tilting her head to study her friend curiously. "When you give her back a name and find her family. That will be her miracle."

OoOoOo

Booth stood in the hall talking to several of the techs and a representative from the local law enforcement agency. His earlier belief had been slightly wrong; the cabin was built right at the edge of federal land. Just far enough off that it fell under the local agency's jurisdiction and not the FBI's.

But a quick phone call and the case had been handed off to him like it was radioactive. Apparently there hadn't been a murder in this area for years and the local sherriff had no experience or desire to solve one now. So the case was Booth's.

He was giving directions on what records to search when the chill went from his shoulder to his wrist. Only years of being a sniper, of sitting still when bugs crawled over his skin, kept him from jumping. His eyes narrowed slightly and his hand opened and closed several times, but they were the only outward signs that something was going on.

The sensation continued like a wave, passing from his shoulder to his wrist and disappearing into his fingers before beginning again. It wasn't painful, just annoying and Booth gritted his teeth to keep from saying something.

Yelling stop in the middle of the crime scene was not going to help this case. But it was going to make him look like an idiot.

When the people he spoke to finally walked away, Booth looked around him slowly, but there was nothing there. "I get it," he said under his breath. "You're here but you're not happy. We don't solve murders in a day. We don't even know who you are. Give us some time."

The sensation morphed to painful before disappearing entirely. Booth bit back a groan. If this kept up, everyone would think he was crazy before this was over.

She found him standing outside the cabin. He'd walked around behind it, looking off into the distance. Hearing her approach, he turned toward her. "Do you have what you need?" he asked.

His face was pensive. "Looking for evidence out here, Booth? Because I'm sure anything that was here would be almost impossible to find at this point."

It was nothing but forest in every direction. Brennan figured that the owners must have hiked in when they used the place. But they hadn't been there for some time. Either since before their victim died or that same day. Years had passed since anyone visited this place.

"Just letting everything rattle around in my head for a minute," Booth said. "The local guy said there haven't been any reports of missing girls around here in years. I don't suppose there was identification somewhere in that room."

Brennan shook her head. "Nothing. And no distinctive marks on the skeleton that I noted. I sent Angela back to start her reconstruction. That is going to be our best lead at this point."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "I just want a nap," he admitted. Maybe later he'd tell her about the sensation in the cabin. Or maybe he'd just keep it to himself. It's not like he could be sure that his ghost girl had caused it. And he was exhausted.

And when had the ghost girl become his?

Taking a glance at her watch, Brennan shook her head. "You know we aren't getting one. By the time we get back to the city one of us will have to get the kids from daycare. Then there are dinner and baths."

Holding up a hand to stop the list of things that needed to be accomplished, he gave up on the idea of getting any rest. "Fine. I'll get the kids. I know you want to go back to the Jeffersonian with the remains."

She did. Desperately. But she was also exhausted and she missed her children. If she didn't go home now she wouldn't see them again until morning. And that wasn't acceptable either.

To his surprise, she shook her head. "We will both pick up the kids. Have dinner, even if it's pizza we pick up." Booth's eyes brightened considerably at the prospect of not having to cook. And pizza? Maybe something good would come out of this day. "After they go to bed, I can head back to the Lab for a few hours."

His face soured immediately. "You know I don't like it when you are there late." He put a hand in the small of her back while guiding her toward the front of the cabin. The sun was fully in the sky now, but the inside was still dark and dusty. A few more windows would help with that, but since Booth was sure someone would tear it down as soon as this was over, he figured it didn't matter.

"I know," she said, enjoying the feel of that hand. Her stomach still jumped every time he touched her there. "But you know that doesn't stop me."

"Maybe Aubrey will come over after they go to bed," Booth considered. "Then I can spend a few hours at the Lab with you."

"If it will make you feel better. But security is excellent there now. Even better since they rebuilt it. You know I'll be okay."

Booth didn't comment, reaching for his phone instead. By the time they made it back to the vehicle, Aubrey had agreed to come over while they went back to the Lab.

Maybe he was being overprotective, but he didn't care. If she was late at the Lab he wanted to be there. At least it would be one less thing for him to worry about.


	10. Chapter 10

They sat next to each other on the couch. Dinner had been eaten, kids were in bed and they were waiting for Aubrey to show up so they could go back to the Lab.

Usually at this point of the day they were relaxing with a glass of wine and Booth was contemplating how long it would take to get Brennan to join him in their bedroom. And after that, well, that was one of the best parts of his day. He was very disappointed that their nightly routine was going to be disrupted.

"I'm glad we managed to get home today," Booth said, taking a drink from the bottle of water he held in his hand. "Considering we weren't even expected back until this afternoon."

Her head tipped to land on his shoulder. "I only want to stay an hour or two at the most. I need you to hold me to that," she said, closing her eyes and then forcing them open again. "Enough time to do an initial exam. I'm too tired to do more than that."

"We can wait," Booth said. He reached up to brush his fingers down her cheek. "She's not going anywhere. She's been waiting for a long time already. One more night won't matter." But she wasn't happy about the waiting, if what had happened earlier was any indication.

Was he just more susceptible to this because he was more likely to believe. Bones would have rationalized everything to death, but Booth was just trying to go along with it now. If his ghost was patient, they'd finish the job.

A name, a face and the answers. WIth a little time, and a little luck, Booth was sure they could find it all.

Or hopefully enough to appease an annoyed ghost.

"At least a couple of years," Brennan said softly. "A body can take as little as a few months to turn into a skeleton under the right conditions. But she's been there a few years based on what I observed."

She was comfortable enough that she feared falling asleep. Until Booth upset her position by whirling quickly to look over his shoulder.

There'd been something there, he was sure of it. Just beyond the corner of his vision. But there was nothing but the flash of headlights as Aubrey pulled into the driveway.

"Sorry," he said, pulling away from her. She was brushing at her pants where water from her open bottle had spilled. "Just jumpy, I guess."

She looked toward where he'd turned. "There is nothing there. Did you see something?"

He shook his head and there was truth in his eyes. "Aubrey's headlights. Nothing more. I promise."

Lost in thought, Booth went to open the door. Did he want to see her again? Or not? The more time passed between seeing her and now, the more unreal the whole thing seemed. Maybe he'd dozed off as well and dreamed the whole thing. Maybe, he'd seen something in the darkness, a hint of the structure or something else that led him in that direction.

All perfectly reasonable explanations until they found the skeleton on the bed.

Or maybe a ghost really had walked out of those trees and told him which way to go. Then entertained herself by making his skin crawl when she thought they weren't working fast enough.

Well, he thought, giving an internal shrug. It could always be worse. Bones was sure it wasn't his brain tumor making a return appearance and if she was sure, that was good enough for him.

Either he'd seen a ghost or he hadn't. But not seeing it didn't explain how he knew those remains were female and how he'd guessed the age so accurately.

So ghost it was. Best he had and he was going with it.

Aubrey was carrying take out bags when Booth opened the door. "Late night snack?" Booth guessed, closing the door behind him.

"Wasn't sure how long you guys would be gone. So an early evening snack," he said, holding up the bag in his left hand, "and a late night snack," he continued, holding up the other hand. "And I have a couple of donuts too, just in case this goes all night."

There was no explaining the man's eating habits and Booth had quit trying. "Kids are asleep. Don't let them eat the snacks if they get up. I'm not dealing with upset stomachs tomorrow morning."

Aubrey placed the bags on the counter and looked offended. "It was only that one time, Booth. I don't know why you keep having to bring it up. Hey, Dr. Brennan," he greeted.

She'd appeared with her bag on her shoulder and looked at what Aubrey had placed on the counter.

"Booth already warned me," Aubrey cried, holding up his hands. "Only healthy snacks if they wake up, I promise."

"We'll be back in a couple of hours at the most." She looked at Booth and waited for his nod. "Thank you, Aubrey."

"I'm assuming you'll catch me up on the case tomorrow, Booth? I heard a bit around the office. Sounds like a good story," Aubrey commented.

Booth caught Brennan's eye and shook his head subtly. Sure, he'd share the details of the case. But some of them, he wanted kept between the two of them.

"I'll catch you up," he promised, opening the door for Brennan. "Tomorrow."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"They'll be disappointed if they find out Uncle Aubrey was there while they were sleeping," Booth said when they were in the SUV. He was glad the drive to her Lab was short and the lack of traffic late in the evening made it go even faster.

"We'll be home before they wake. You promised me," she reminded him.

SIlence descended and it wasn't entirely comfortable. Booth waited, but she didn't ask. So he gave her a verbal nudge. "What aren't you saying, Bones?"

"Will you tell me if you see her again?" she asked. "I'm afraid you won't tell me."

His gaze on her was as long as he dared while driving. "I don't keep things from you. Not anymore." His hands tightened around the wheel. "Are you worried it's something else?" he heard himself ask. Just when he thought he'd moved past that. Maybe he was kidding himself about all of this."

"No," she snapped. "But if it will make you feel better we can call the doctor tomorrow. But it is a waste of time and I don't like to waste time." The breath she drew was as sharp as her voice. "I am curious about your experience and I hope you will share it with me. I want you to share it with me." Her hands twisted around each other in her lap. "I don't want you to not talk to me because you think I won't believe you."

When he put his hand palm up between them, she reached out and took it. "I'll tell you whatever I see, Bones. But I keep waiting for you to make fun of me," verifying her fear. "Or tell me why what I saw couldn't have possibly happened."

"You saw something, therefore it happened. Ghost, dream, light in the darkness when all you wanted to do was go home with me." Her head tipped back against the seat. "I just don't want you to hide something from me."

Their recent history was right there and he understood why she asked. "I won't hide it from you. I made that mistake once. I won't do it again."


	11. Chapter 11

He stood on the balcony that overlooked the center of the Lab. It had been included in the redesign and Booth was thankful for it. Not only did it continue to give employees a place to relax and take a break, it also allowed him to watch Bones as she worked.

It was easier to tolerate the place from up here. With snacks, coffee and comfortable seating it was a more personal space than the rest of the Lab.

The rest of the place was too cold, too new, too scientific for him. It lacked feeling, something he relied on not only for his job but in his life as well. There was no history to the place, and not just because it was new. The design kept it sterile and that was something he would never grow to like.

Watching her work was something he never got tired of. The way her hands moved as she studied the bones never failed to make him catch his breath. There were so many ways she was beautiful, and studying a skeleton was one of them. Most people would find that unusual. For him, it was just another representation of who they were and the life they lived.

She knew he was up there watching her and it made her feel safe. That frision of awareness when his eyes were on her. It used to annoy her, a lifetime ago, when he watched her work this way. Now it just relaxed her and reminded her of how much he loved her.

There was something on one of the ribs. Picking it up, she ran a finger over the edge, then stopped to make a quick note of her findings. There was a corresponding mark on the spine behind that rib and she also noted the damage. Cause of death, perhaps. It gave her an avenue to explore the following day.

Angela had developed a rough reconstruction with promises to refine it as soon as she returned to work. She'd left the searches going overnight, hoping that something would hit, even if she was sure it wouldn't. The photograph was too vague to really give them a chance of a quick identification.

Brennan wanted to help her. To find markers on the bones that would give them something to work with. But there was nothing, at least so far. No remodeled fractures from her younger years, and no obvious signs that she'd been active in sports. A quiet life and a mysterious death. A little sad, if she thought about it for too long.

With her focus on the skeleton, she missed when Booth's eyes widened and focused on something behind her. Standing slowly from where he'd leaned against the railing, Booth blinked hard.

Even with his eyes no longer on her, he saw Bones straighten as well and shudder slightly. Any other time, Booth might have thought she was cold. If asked, he was sure that's what she would claim. But he knew that wasn't the cause.

Unsure of whether to call out or not, he considered his options. The dead woman who wanted something, he didn't know what. If he waited, perhaps she'd give them some sort of clue.

But there was also the corporeal woman he loved more than life itself down there. And he didn't know what that ghost, or any ghost, was truly capable of.

Which made the choice of what to do next very easy.

"Behind you, Bones," he called down from above her.

Jumping slightly from the unexpected sound of his voice, Brennan lifted her eyes to him. But not behind her. "What's back there?" she asked. Then swallowed and allowed herself to just go along with whatever Booth told her. Later, after this case was over, she'd do some research about what was happening and find an explanation that didn't involve the paranormal. Because ghosts weren't real. "Is she back there?"

"Yeah," Booth said. "Just standing there. Watching you." He turned his head. "Can't really see her if I look straight at her. I almost have to look away from her to see anything. And even then it's more of a suggestion."

Despite her lack of belief, the hair on Brennan's arms rose. This conversation was so bizarre she wasn't sure what to think. She had no control over a ghost and didn't like it. What good was the entity if she couldn't help them? "Then tell her to step back," Brennan ordered, raising her voice. "She's too close."

Booth snorted, caught between amusement and disbelief. "You believe in ghosts now, Bones?"

"Don't be silly," Brennan said. But she didn't argue with Booth's claim that there was one standing behind her. "I can't work if you are distracted up there. It draws my focus away from the skeleton."

Sure, he thought. Whatever you need to tell yourself. "I'm sure she can hear you just fine."

"If she can hear me, then perhaps she can find a way to help us. There is almost nothing on this skeleton that's going to assist us with identification. I fear it is going to take longer than we want it to. Can't you two communicate with sign language or something?"

A stainless steel tray of tools jumped off the table as if someone had slapped an open palm next to it. Brennan eyed the pile at her feet before bending over to pick it up.

"You made her mad, Bones," Booth said. There was a touch of amusement in his voice. Laughing seemed the only option at this point. He made his way back down the stairs toward her. "I don't think she likes our timeline."

"I don't like any of this," Brennan snapped. The tools were not placed gently back on the tray but tossed haphazardly in frustration. "You're seeing things and I'm just talking about it like it's the most rational thing in the world. Which it isn't. There is nothing in any journal I've ever read that suggests ghosts can be real."

It was clear that frustration and exhaustion were starting to take over. It was time for them to go home. Coming up the steps to the platform, he squatted down next to her.

Her head stayed down, until he put a finger under her chin and gently pressed up. Reluctantly, her blue eyes met his. So many emotions there. Anger, confusion, exhaustion all mixed in one tiny hurricane that swirled beneath the surface.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Finding comfort in the calm that was in his brown eyes, she nodded.

"You've been all over the world?" he asked despite already knowing the answer. "And you studied or spent time with many different cultures."

"You know I did. What does this have to do with anything?"

He allowed her to pull back, but kept his eyes locked on hers. "I know some of those places you went, those people believed in spirits. That their ancestors helped them. That with the right words, or during a certain time of year, it was even possible to speak with those who were gone. If you believed in that sort of thing. Why is it different because it's me or us?"

"Because it's not rational," she said, hating that she couldn't come up with a better reason. He was right about what she'd seen. And it frustrated her that she wasn't the one who'd come up with such a logical argument against his ghost. Instead, he'd used her own science to come up with an argument for its existence.

All of the differing cultures and the things she'd experienced. Maybe it was only a way to explain what happened after death and ease those who were left behind. But what if all those beliefs had a slight basis in truth?

Booth took the tray from her hands and put it back on the table it had fallen from. "It wasn't rational to you. But don't tell me that it felt any less real. You might not have believed, but you participated and tried to understand. To not influence those who did believe it. And I'm guessing you learned some things."

Of course she had. About herself and those she'd been with. "Some of the most important things in life cannot be measured empirically," she said, reciting from a text she'd read long ago. "But that doesn't believe they don't exist." Rising from where she'd crouched to pick up the tools, she let her shoulders slump. "Take me home, Booth. I know what you're trying to say to me. And I promise I'll try."

"Good enough for me, Bones," he said, taking her hand. "Right now, I just hope she doesn't follow us home."

"If she ever wants me to solve this case," Brennan said, looking around but seeing nothing out of place, "she'll stay right here."


	12. Chapter 12

She came to bed in white. Beautiful, pure, ghostly white. Booth honestly wasn't sure if it was a joke, or it just hadn't occurred to her what she'd done.

Brushing his teeth more enthusiastically than normal to prevent any comments from leaving his mouth, by the time he was done in the bathroom, he'd composed himself enough to just let the whole thing go.

Silence seemed more prudent at this juncture.

Aubrey and what little remained of his food had been sent home. The children were peacefully asleep, Booth had checked on each of them twice, and his ghostly visitor didn't seem to be anywhere in the vicinity.

No visions he couldn't quite see, no creepy feelings running up and down his skin. Which was fine with him. If she was tied to her bones, it would be better for everyone. And if that was the case, as long as he didn't go the Lab again, he wouldn't have to worry about seeing her.

Avoiding the problem didn't usually solve anything, but until he came up with another option, that was the best he had.

Bones might have to worry about getting her tools knocked on the floor, but she'd just have to deal with it. Better than continuing to see visions he couldn't explain.

He crawled under the covers then reached out to pull her to him. Half asleep already, she tucked herself into his side and sighed. "Maybe we should call Avalon," she suggested.

He'd been half asleep himself when her slurred words penetrated his brain. "Oh hell no. We are not calling that woman. And we are not telling Angela. Because she will definitely call her. Right?" he asked, hoping Bones agreed with him.

But somewhere during that very short tirade, she'd fallen asleep. Kissing her tenderly, Booth wished he'd used that moment to tell her he loved her. He felt like he hadn't said the words in forever, and while she didn't need the reminder, he still liked to say the words to her. He'd held them inside for so long before they'd finally become a couple that he hated to miss a chance to give them voice.

Even after all of that raced through his head, he said them anyway. Maybe somewhere in her dreams she'd hear them and they'd bring her peace for another night. Sending up a brief prayer for no nightmares and no ghosts, Booth followed her into the darkness that sleep brought.

OoOoOo

It might have brought her peace, hearing those words whispered in the dark, but it didn't help him.

He was back on the Gravedigger's ship, fighting his way back to Bones. Even then, he'd been surviving for her. For Parker as well, but he remembered how she and Hodgins never gave up. So he hadn't. Just one crazy idea after another, right?

Teddy was next to him again. And while Booth understood he was trapped in a dream, he was powerless to escape it. If the ghost of the woman couldn't get to him in his dreams, it seemed another would take her place.

Rushing water. He could hear it and feel it as it splashed on his face. Booth wanted to wipe it away, but there wasn't time. They needed to find a way to trigger the explosion that would free them.

Was Teddy there? Booth still believed he had been. No matter what the doctors said or Bones believed. Had he been saving just himself? Or saving both of them? Was Teddy a ghost or just a product of the tumor he didn't even know about yet? Dragging Teddy from that watery grave could have been a way of relieving the guilt Booth carried over his death. Maybe saving him from that boat was just a wish turned into reality.

It made no sense and perfect sense. Sometimes, what he thought about that experience explained everything and other times, nothing at all. It was a mystery with no answer. There were days he wasn't even sure of the questions.

He hadn't wanted his ghost from work to follow him home, but had never given a thought to the other ghosts that haunted him. The deaths he blamed himself for even when they weren't his fault. It seemed that that past days had brought them back for a visit.

The dream was jumbled, as they often were. Teddy was there and then he wasn't. The figure morphed into a girl into a white nightgown that looked like Bones, then a young woman with no face at all.

When the figure changed again, back to Bones, this time he fought to hold her face in his mind.

And when her voice began to pierce the dream, he reached toward her, as if her words were something he could physically grab and hold.

He gripped her upper arms when his eyes snapped open. His first coherent thought was that his hold was too tight, and he immediately relaxed his hands.

"I'm good," she said. While his fingers had been tight, they wouldn't leave marks he would feel guilty over. "But you're crying." She kept her tone level, just relaying a fact. But her fingers were brushing at his cheeks.

She'd been hovering over him for several minutes waiting for the dream to break. His whisper of Teddy's name had given her a clue to where he'd gone.

"It was water in the dream," he said. Pushing her hands away, he used the edge of the sheet to dry his face. "Damn Gravedigger," he grumbled, knowing she wouldn't need more explanation than that.

Pushing away from her he rose from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Brennan sat up further in bed, turning herself to face that direction. She'd give him space, he often needed it after his dreams, and then she'd see if he wanted to talk about it.

Booth splashed water on his face then finally looked at himself in the mirror. Not liking what he saw reflected back to him, he turned away and went back to the bedroom.

He wasn't surprised to see her waiting for him. "Boat," was all he said, knowing that single word was all she would need. "Teddy was there. Seems if one ghost can't haunt me, another will."

Her hand gently patted the bed and Booth rejoined her. Propping pillows behind him, he leaned back, not surprised when she curled herself into him.

"I'm good," he said. "Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"I know," she said. "I hate what this case is doing to you."

He snorted and Brennan thought there might have been a touch of humor in the sound. "You mean that I'm seeing ghosts?"

Considering his answer, she eventually shook her head. "That it's bringing back other things. Forcing you to relive what you've gone through. I hate when that happens."

"I know the feeling," he said, reaching to run a hand down her arm. "But I'm okay. I swear."

She hummed her disagreement. "Tell me what you need," she told him.

For once, the answer was easy. "You, Bones. The only thing in my life I've ever needed. As long as I have you, I'll get through tonight and all the rest that follow."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I want to thank those of you taking the time to read and review. It helps to keep the daily updates coming.

He dropped her off at the Lab the next morning. Only slightly more rested than the day before, Booth was holding on to his patience through sheer will alone. It wouldn't take much to snap that single thread that was keeping him together.

"I'm not coming inside. If she's tied to those bones," he explained, "the further away I stay, the better."

Brennan wished there was something she could say to help him relax. "I'll call you when Angela finishes her reconstruction. And I'll expect you to pick me up for lunch."

It seemed like a good sign when he didn't argue. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before reaching for the door handle. She was halfway out of the vehicle when his hand touched her arm.

"Tell Angela," he started, pausing to swallow hard. "Tell Angela long blonde hair. No bangs. It brushes her shoulders. Straight. No curls."

She'd come up with a way to give Angela that information. Words that wouldn't lead to questions Brennan would refuse to answer.

"Sometime," she said, trying to distract him. "I want to hear how you describe me. You notice a lot more than you admit to. You might not notice the same things I do, but you still see them."

His eyes softened and then his whole body, which had been her intent. "Blue eyes that see the truth of me, even when I don't want them to." He laughed gently, shaking his head. How did you describe the woman who was your entire world? "Hair that smells like summer and makes my body tighten in all sorts of interesting ways when it brushes against my skin."

Blood rushed into her cheeks while his ran in the other direction. "Let's just stop there," she said, her voice a little weak. "I'm glad I already kissed your cheek because I think a kiss after that might cause us to spontaneously combust."

This time his laugh was loud. It was the first time she'd seen him truly let go in over twenty-four hours and that brief spurt of emotion made it easier for her to get out of the SUV.

Rolling down the window, he called out after her. "I love you, Bones."

From inside the elevator, she gave him a warm smile. "Love you, too, Booth. I'll see you at lunch."

OoOoOo

"Good morning, Dr. Hodgins," she greeted. He was already on the platform, inputting something into the computer. "Did Angela catch you up?"

"Hey, Dr. B. I heard all about it. Any ideas?"

She shook her head while pulling on a pair of gloves. "I noted an injury on the rib and on the spine behind it. Possible gunshot wound, but without further evidence I can't be certain. It was all I found in the little time I was at the Lab last night."

Surreptitiously, she moved her eyes around the room. Everything seemed to be in the proper place. It seemed Booth's ghost had behaved itself while they were gone.

The scientist in her just couldn't believe. There was no evidence to support the existence of ghosts or of a soul. Nothing that said any part of a person lived on after their physical body was no longer able to support life.

But there was also the woman in her. The one who loved when she'd believed it was impossible. Who believed absolutely in the man she'd promised to spend the rest of her life with. That part of her couldn't discount what he said. What he'd seen.

"I saw that in the files," Hodgins said from behind her. Brennan barely controlled the jump at the sound of his voice. "We are taking samples from the mattress and then I'm going to take it apart. Maybe there is evidence on the inside."

"I'm hoping for anything at this point. But even that won't be much help until we can identify the victim. If she even was a victim. There is always a chance of a natural death or a suicide."

The blood residue on the mattress would indicate that it was not a natural death, but she wouldn't discount any possibilities at this point.

The computer screen Hodgins was looking at shut off abruptly. Startled, he tried turning it off and back on again. "Repairing this place cost millions of dollars and the equipment is failing already?" he snapped. "Is this how they cut corners?"

"Probably just a glitch," Brennan said, looking around again. Ridiculous to blame it on anything else, but just in case. "Hopefully we can get it restarted. Without it, we won't be able to continue our investigation."

Immediately, the screen came back on. If a chill went down her spine, Brennan chose to ignore it. Apparently she couldn't see the ghost, but the ghost could see them. And wasn't happy with the idea of her death being blamed on anything but a murder.

Believe or don't believe. Or just go along with the whole thing? Not something she was very good at, but it seemed this case was going to force her to learn how.

Angela was climbing the steps and Brennan considered telling her everything. But even as she thought about it, she knew that it wasn't an option. Booth would never forgive her. And Angela would throw herself behind the theory. Suspending belief or disbelief for Booth was fine. Doing the same for Angela might be impossible.

And if Angela called Avalon? Brennan might as well move all her stuff into the guest room for the foreseeable future.

Booth's demand as she'd fallen asleep had come through loud and clear. He didn't want the psychic involved. And Brennan hadn't really been serious anyway. Even if the woman seemed to know things she shouldn't.

They worked in a comfortable silence that Brennan had missed while the Lab had been reconstructed. More photographs taken, notes scribed and scenarios offered.

The computer screens stayed on and the tools stayed on the table. It felt like a victory to Brennan, but at that moment she'd take it.

Because there wasn't much else she felt successful at right at the moment.

"There is nothing wrong with being average," Brennan said, removing her gloves. She'd done all she could do here. "Until you have no identification and are nothing more than a skeleton in an abandoned cabin. Right now, Angela, you are our best bet."

"There's DNA," Hodgins offered.

Brennan shook her head. "I have a suspicion that she won't be in any of the databases. Maybe missing persons?"

"Nothing like adding a little pressure to the whole thing. But I'll go input some new values and get started. Any suggestions on hair and eye color?"

"Techs found some blonde hair on the bed," Hodgins said before Brennan could answer. Neither of them saw her shoulders slump in relief. "It was long, if that helps."

"I'll go blonde and blue then. Keep your fingers crossed. But if no report was filed, it could take awhile."

"Start with driver's license records in the local area, Maryland and Virginia," Brennan said. "I don't believe in luck. But right now," she said, her eyes going back to the skeleton, "I think we could use some."


	14. Chapter 14

Booth hated the Lab. He'd hated it before it had been destroyed in the explosion and he hated it now. No matter how new or old it was, the place smelled of antiseptic and death.

Yes, he appreciated the upper level, but only so he could watch Bones work. It was still cold and impersonal and not a place he wanted to spend a significant amount of time.

The only place that escaped that opinion was Bones' office. It was warm, soothing, and never smelled like the rest of the place.

"Did you do this for me?" Booth asked, closing the door behind him. It was a silly thought, thinking she'd decorated her office with him in mind. But he liked the idea that maybe she had.

Brennan looked up from her computer. "Do what?" she asked, genuinely confused about what he was asking.

He moved to her couch and sat down. One foot came up to rest on the opposite knee and he fiddled with his tie. He really liked the new furniture she'd picked out. This couch was great for napping and he'd taken advantage of that fact once or twice since the place had reopened.

Watching him play with his tie and move around nervously, Brennan waited for an explanation. Given that amount of nervous energy, Brennan figured he'd been stuck behind his desk all morning.

"Made your office a place I might be willing to spend time in. It doesn't smell bad in here." He took a deep breath through his nose. "It smells like you. And it's not all stainless steel and cold like the rest of this place. It's the only place in here I can tolerate for longer than a few minutes."

There was no scent in her office as far as she could tell. And she rarely wore perfume. Accepting that it was something unique to Booth, she pointed out a flaw in his logic. "You managed the other night standing on the upper level."

He shrugged. "Because I wanted to see you. Watch you work. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stayed there."

Looking around her office with new eyes, Brennan considered the question. "I didn't consciously do it with you in mind. But you have influenced me in many ways. This could be another."

Saving the document on her computer, Brennan rose and approached the couch. When Booth dropped his foot to the floor and widened his legs, she stepped between them.

"Your office still isn't private enough for things like that, Bones." His eyes had darkened as he looked up at her. "Unless there are things that I'm not aware of." Still, he couldn't stop himself from leaning toward her and running his hands up her legs to her hips.

"Like privacy glass and shades. Of course, there are shades. But if I close them, everyone is going to know what we are doing in here." Stepping back, she held out her hand and pulled him to his feet.

He used that same hand to haul her against him. The hug was quick and he was stepping back almost before she'd registered he'd done it. He liked to touch her during the day, but a hug was still rare. "Any luck on identifying who owns the cabin?" she asked.

Exchanging her lab coat for a sweater, Brennan watched as he tried to open the door. While the handle turned, the door wouldn't come free of the frame.

Bemused, Booth flipped the lock a couple of times before trying again. It remained closed, despite his best effort to pull it open. "I planned on telling you over lunch," he said, rattling the handle, "but I'm not sure we're going to get out of your office."

Brennan crossed her arms over her chest. "Your ghost is a pain in the ass," she announced.

Booth, still trying to figure out why the door was sticking, turned to look at his wife. His jaw was open in shock. "You never swear."

"There are many options in the English language to explain how you feel about something without resorting to crude language," she said primly. "But right at this moment, this seems like the best."

He kicked the door with the side of his foot. "She's not my ghost." Even if he had been thinking of her that way. "Has she done something else?"

"When I mentioned earlier that her death could be from something other than murder, the computer screen that Hodgins was at turned off. I stated it was from a glitch but when I also mentioned we couldn't work without it, the screen immediately turned back on."

"And you think she's locked us in here? Why?" It didn't make any sense to him. Being in Brennan's office wasn't going to help them solve the case. "You realize if anyone else heard us talking like this they'd think we were crazy."

"Oh, I don't know," Brennan said. "I think Angela would believe us. Or believe you. She'd just be shocked with my reaction to all of this."

"True," Booth agreed, rattling the door again. It remained firmly stuck in the frame. To be honest, he continued to be a little shocked at how well she was dealing with it. "Any suggestions?"

She rolled her eyes up and took a fortifying breath. "You need to let us out of here. I can't work when I'm hungry. I can't work here and neither can Booth. We need to leave."

And the shocks just kept coming. "Your solution is to talk to her?" Booth asked. He'd just managed to close his mouth and now it was hanging open again. Where had Bones tucked her rational side?

"I thought ghosts were supposed to be all spooky and made of mist. Footsteps and images in photographs that are most likely faked. This one just causes trouble. It's making it difficult for me to do my job." Her voice was petulant. She was fighting a ghost and she appeared to be losing.

It took Booth a moment to process everything she'd just said. "She was spooky enough out in the forest," he said. When he tried to door again and it still didn't open, he went back to the couch and slumped on it. "Let's try this. Maybe she just wants to hear the update too."

"Fine," Brennan said. "Say it so we can get out of here."

"The cabin belongs to no one. It isn't supposed to exist. There are no permits or building records that I can find that tie it to anyone. It backs up to federal land in a pretty isolated area. This gives the owner almost complete privacy to do or get away with whatever they want."

Brennan, not sure what else to do, joined him on the couch. "We suspected that when we found it. And the owner of the land?"

Booth snorted. "A ninety year old man suffering from dementia. No family, no children, and according to the nursing home, no one has visited him in years. He's no help." He glanced toward the door. "This case is frustrating. How about you?"

"No markers giving a clear clue to identity. Some injuries to a rib and the spine that could be the cause of death. The techs did find some blonde hair on the mattress, so I was saved from coming up with a story to explain that information."

"So all we have," Booth summed up, straightening his tie, "is a skeleton we can't identify, a cabin that belongs to no one and an annoyed ghost? One that has locked us in your office." His eyes met hers. "Perfect."


	15. Chapter 15

"And you think that update will open my door?" She'd settled next to him on the couch, their shoulders touching. "Everyone will think I left for lunch. No one will look for me for at least an hour. Maybe I should call maintenance."

"Maybe if she doesn't let us out," Booth threatened, "I'll just take your clothes off and we'll make use of our free hour. Close the blinds and the hell with what everyone will if no one is going to come looking for us." Despite the clear frustration in his voice, he raised his eyebrows and tried to look at her suggestively.

As a threat, Brennan found it laughable. Booth was too private about something like that to ever have sex with her in her office, especially in the middle of the day. Even the ridiculous idea of a ghost watching them would be too much for him. Years of practice allowed her to keep the disbelief off her face when she looked at him.

They'd had yet to christen her new office or the couch they were sitting on. That moment was something she was looking forward to. Enticing him would be almost as enjoyable as the act itself. Now, unfortunately, wasn't that moment.

But not everyone knew him as well as she did. WIth an audible click, the door released and swung open slowly.

"Maybe," Brennan said coldly, "her bones will end up in Limbo if she doesn't behave herself."

Jumping to his feet, Booth grabbed Brennan and tugged her behind him. The tone in her voice made it clear it was more than just a threat and Booth didn't want to see what the reaction would be. Quickly, they escaped the office before they could be trapped again. "Let's make it a short lunch," he decided. "The sooner we get this figured out, the sooner all this madness is over with.

Brennan couldn't think of one good reason to disagree with him.

OoOoOoOo

"Please tell me you have something, Angela?" Brennan almost begged after she'd returned from lunch. The Lab was her safe place, where she went when she needed to think.

After the last twenty-four hours, she was no longer sure whether or not to walk through the door. And her entire belief system was under attack. The sooner they solved the case, the better.

"Maybe," Angela said. "Grabbing the tablet, she put several pictures up on the screens. "Based on the description I went with, and the age range, I have four potential matches. I sent the same information to Booth. But that's only in the area we decided to search. If these don't work out, and we are forced to expand it?" Angela shook her head at the prospect. "We'll be looking at hundreds of options."

"Take out the third," Brennan said. "Her nose has been broken in the past and our victim does not fit that."

A few clicks and then there were three. Studying them, Brennan was finally forced to shake her head. "I can't be sure about these. The markers are correct and there are no definitive characteristics that allow me to separate them from our victim."

"Hey, Angie," Hodgins called out as he came in. "Oh, Dr. Brennan, I'm glad you're here too. You're going to be happy with what I've found."

Brennan shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I certainly hope so."

Hodgins rattled a covered dish in front of the two of them.

"A bullet?" Angela asked. "Where did you find a bullet?"

"Mattress," Hodgins said gleefully. "Way down toward the bottom."

"Large caliber to make it through the body and down into the mattress. It would explain the damage to the rib and the spine. Most likely our cause of death."

"Not suicide?" Angela asked, jumping when a book fell off the shelf behind her.

Brennan didn't even react. "We can build a scenario using the skeleton and the location of the mattress where the bullet was found. But blood evidence indicates she was lying flat on the bed when she was shot. There was no blood anywhere else in the room. I'll need more evidence to make a firm conclusion."

"Murdered and left there, how sad," Angela said, already making a decision about what had happened. "I'll have to check that shelf. Maybe something is loose."

"Another place they cut corners," Hodgins said, throwing up his hands. The two women smiled in commiseration as he went off on another tirade.

Brennan felt a little bad for maintenance and what they were about to go through. Hodgins would have them checking everything in this place to make sure it was up to code.

"Dr. Hodgins," Brennan said loudly, interrupting a sentence about government spending habits, "let's see what else we can find on the mattress. And the bullet. Angela, make sure Booth knows that we took one of the women off the list. I'm going to look at the skeleton one more time."

As she strode out of the office, Hodgins shook his head. "Cam, put me in charge. She does remember that, right?"

Angela gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "Of course she remembers. You are in charge, honey."

OoOoOo

Booth showed up in the late afternoon with a file in his hand. "One of the women you sent me has the potential to be a match." Swiping his card, he made his way up to the platform. "I'm surprised they didn't come up with a better system for this part."

"Don't say that to Hodgins," Brennan warned, taking the folder from him. "He already thinks they cut corners to build this place."

Looking around at the shiny, state of the art equipment, Booth wasn't sure how anyone could think that. "Did you find anything new?"

She look up distractedly, interrupted from reading the file. "On the skeleton? Skeletal markers make her appear to be right handed. But no, not really. But her teeth have been well taken care of. If we can get dental records, I'll be able to match them."

Booth tapped his finger against the photo in the file. "I tracked down and spoke to the other two. Both clearly alive. But this one, I couldn't find any record of her for the last two years. No tax returns, nothing at the state or federal level. I also called her mother. Said her daughter ran away and she hadn't seen her in years. I have dental records on the way."

The photo fell suddenly from Brennan's hands, fluttering to her feet along with the rest of the papers in the thin file. "You good, Bones?"

"Slapped out of my hands," she said. "I felt it."

Booth's eyes moved around the platform. "Something by that screen maybe," he said. "But she's not clear." His voice had dropped to a whisper to avoid being overheard. "Do you think that means we are right, or wrong?"

"I don't care what she thinks. I want my evidence. Until then, everything else is just a guess. She is going to have to accept that this is the pace we work. Unless she comes up with some sort of way to interact with us, other than playing with electronics and knocking things out of my hands."

Retrieving the photograph, her eyes moved between it and the skeleton. "The markers are correct for this to be her. Let's hope the dental records get here quickly. At least then, one mystery will be solved."


	16. Chapter 16

"It's her," Brennan said, comparing the dental records to the skull. "Positive identification. Michelle Sanders. I'm also comfortable saying that the cause of death was a gunshot wound to the chest."

"Murder?" Booth asked.

They spoke over computer link. The dental records had come through almost immediately, which surprised both of them. But nothing about this case had been normal so they'd given up trying to explain it.

Brennan pressed her lips together. Booth raised one eyebrow, knowing why she hesitated. "You can't be sure," he said for her. His voice was grim at the thought of not being able to give any family left behind a clear answer on what had happened to their loved one.

There wasn't much worse in his line of work than telling a family he didn't have all the answers. Or the answers they really wanted. He could often answer the what. What happened? What caused the death?  
There was also why. Why did this happen? But that question often had a less satisfying answer. Even when he had one, it was often weak. Answering what was easier.

Except maybe this time, he wasn't going to be able to. And he knew when he showed up at the mother's door, she was going to want to know what happened.

"I can't be sure," Brennan said slowly. Past experience with statements like that had her waiting for something to happen. But no books fell off shelves and her computer link with Booth stayed active.

That supportive pat she just felt on her shoulder? Well that was easy to ignore.

"But the placement of the bullet in the mattress, the wounds to the chest all contributed to a likely scenario that Angela created. And in that scenario, the killer was standing while the victim lay on the bed. At which point she was shot in the chest. My conclusion based on the evidence would be from a very close range."

Booth whistled softly. "She didn't stand a chance." He pushed at the file with a finger. "Her driver's license indicates she would have been about twenty at the time of death."

"So if we have her name, that means she should just go away. Right?" Brennan asked hopefully. If the ghost was gone, she could spend some time coming up with a rational explanation for everything that had happened. Knowing there would never be one.

His head shake was slow. "You just said she was probably murdered. Our ghost isn't leaving until we can figure out what happened to her. She'll want her mother to know."

Hadn't he had similar thoughts when trying to escape the various people that had tried to kill him over the years? Even if he didn't make it, he wanted Bones to know what had happened to him. To not leave a mystery that would haunt her after he was gone.

When his eyes darkened suddenly, Brennan knew he was remembering something from his past. She recognized the look and wondered what their conversation had made him recall. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. A one time, he wouldn't have shared what he was thinking, but he tried not to do that anymore. "I understand what that feels like, wanting someone to know what happened."

She remembered a note written in the darkness of a buried car. "I do too." Then she quickly changed the subject back to the case. There were some things she never wanted to dwell too long on. "I sent over photographs of the clothes. She wasn't wearing them when she was shot. There are no bullet holes or blood on them."

Booth flipped open the file and pulled out the photos she'd referred to. "Her sneakers aren't here," he commented absently.

Brennan's eyes narrowed. "There were no shoes in the pile. Jeans, t-shirt, bra and underwear. No shoes. I suppose it is possible the killer took the shoes."

'Why would someone take just the sneakers?" Booth wondered. He flipped the photos back and forth, not paying attention to Brennan.

"Booth," she said sharply, waiting until he looked up. "How do you know they were sneakers?"

His eyes narrowed and she watched him glance away from the screen. He then disappeared and based on what she heard in the background, closed the door to his office. When he returned to sit in front of her again, his eyes were shadowed, the lines around them a little deeper.

"When I saw her, that first night in the forest," he began. The words flew out of his mouth, wanting to avoid talking about this for any longer than he had to.

No matter how many times she told him it was fine, Booth couldn't quite let go of the fear that had assaulted him that night. That he was going to leave his family behind because his tumor was back.

It wasn't, he knew it. But any mention of that first visit immediately brought that panic to the front of his thoughts. It seemed he wouldn't be able to remember one without the other.

"She was clear," he continued. "Not colorful, more like a black and white image I guess." He shrugged, not sure how to explain it. "Standing in light. I could see her hair and tell that she was wearing jeans. But there were sneakers on her feet. She wasn't barefoot."

Booth looked down at the pictures again. "I couldn't see color, but I have no difficulty saying she was wearing these clothes. She wasn't naked when I saw her. I saw her fully clothed."

"Okay," Brennan said. She drew a deep breath making another effort to push her disbelief aside. "So then we need to find the shoes. And who built that cabin. And who was out there with her."

"You trying to do my job, Bones?" he joked. The humor was weak, but there.

"I'm afraid there isn't much more I can do here," she admitted. "But you need me, so I'll try and help you. Are we going to visit the mother?"

He glanced at the time. "Tomorrow," he decided immediately. "I am

not going on an interview this late. Not again. Who knows what we'll find this time. Can I pick you up in an hour?"

"I'll be ready. Booth," she said, stopping him as he reached to end the call. "You are okay. I wouldn't have said so if I didn't believe it. Didn't know it for sure."

He shouldn't be surprised that she saw right through him. "I know that, Bones. And I do believe it. Just shook me a little is all. It's going to take me another day or two to get over it."

This time she let him go. His ghost was haunting him in more ways than one. And Brennan hated her just a little for it.

_A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews. I have manged to write up until Day 27 so I'm optimistic that I'll be able to post it daily until the 31st. Fingers crossed... _


	17. Chapter 17

This dream was different than any he'd had in the past.

It usually, even in a dream world that wasn't always logical, didn't take him long to figure out what nightmare he was having. What terrible moment from his past he was going to be forced to relive.

There were the common ones. His time as a prisoner of war, his kidnapping by the Gravedigger and his time in jail were three that often appeared. That feeling of being trapped and not able to escape had him going outside after he woke. Even in the middle of winter, he needed to be outside of four walls and a roof. During those nights, she let him go, knowing he needed both time and space to reorient himself to the freedom he had.

Then there were the ones that involved Bones. Her own kidnapping by the Gravedigger, where in dreams he wasn't in time to save her, was the one he was forced to experience the most. After those dreams, Bones wrapped herself around him, reminding him with her body and her words that he'd been in time. Her warmth saved him from himself.

Sometimes, he dreamed that they'd made different choices. Choices that had kept them from ever getting to this moment. She'd sailed off with Sully or Hannah had said yes. Dreams of alternate realities that he was glad not to be living in. Those nights, he simply had to open his eyes and see the reality of his life to be okay.

But never had he dreamed of the aftermath of his own death. Of the people he'd leave behind. Those same people who grieved him when he'd faked his death all those years ago.

The headstones were hazy, indistinct. The way dreams often made things look. Knowing it was a dream, he fought to free himself, but as was often the case, Booth couldn't wake himself up.

She stood looking down at a headstone. Booth knew it was his, even without seeing the name engraved on it. Pissed, knowing he was still alive outside of this vision, he tried to put his hand on her shoulder. But it passed through her.

God, he hated how his subconscious worked. Taking some fear he was trying to forget and forcing him to actually live through it.

"This isn't real," he said behind dream Bones. "Quit staring down at that stupid stone and turn around. I'm right here."

Of course, she didn't. But she shuddered hard and Booth wondered if some part of her dream self could hear him.

He'd never tried to manipulate a dream before. Caught somewhere in the twilight between this dream and being awake, Booth wasn't even sure it was possible. But he wasn't going to keep doing this.

He stepped around her. "I'm not dead," he said again. "And I'm not dying. At least, not right now. I won't relive this over and over again. Booth, wake up."

It wasn't his voice. It was Bones' voice. His dream version of her mouthed the words to him, but it was the living breathing Bones who said them.

Focusing on her lips as she repeated the words, Booth let them weave their way around him, tying him to the only reality he wanted to be a part of.

The headstone disappeared first. Then she started to fade beginning at the feet. In what felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, Bones was gone and he was left in a darkness that was peaceful.

The next thing he registered was her hand pressed to his cheek. His own hand came up to cover it, before pulling it away to lock his fingers with hers.

"I love you," he said. His voice was rough and low. He licked his lips, wondering if he'd spoken in his sleep. "You are my anchor to everything, even in dreams."

The confession shocked her. Booth was usually quiet after nightmares, needing time to settle again. Her lips pressed to his forehead. He had yet to open his eyes and wasn't sure he wanted to. Hers would be full of concern and he didn't like knowing he was the one who'd put it there.

"You said something about not being dead," she said over him. Her breath brushed past his cheek.

"I need to get up," Booth said suddenly. He'd heard the hitch in her voice and knew what memory his words had forced her to think of. She probably thought that's what he had dreamt of. Two weeks she'd lived with his death. How dare he make her think of it now.

His stomach rolled and for a moment, he thought he might actually be sick. But he gritted his teeth and refused to give in to the sensation.

Bracing his hands on the sink, Booth left the door open behind him. Brennan took it as a silent invitation to follow and she did, pressing a palm to his bare back. The other, she put next to one of his.

"When I saw that ghost in the woods," he said softly, "the first thing I thought of was that stupid tumor." He picked his eyes up and met hers in the mirror. "I started cataloging all the ways this was different than the other times I saw people. How it wasn't in color and how I didn't actually interact with it."

Her hand began to move slowly up and down his back. She knew all this, had put it all together already, but knew he wouldn't start to move past it until he told her all of it.

"It was all I could think about as I walked into the woods. Knowing if we didn't find a house, or a body, there was a good chance something else was wrong."

"And I know," he continued, "that if you'd thought something was wrong, you would have dragged me to the doctor that night. Didn't matter that we were lost and trapped. Hell, you had me to the hospital and in surgery almost faster than I could register it the first time." His eyes stayed locked on hers in the mirror but he moved one hand so it rested on hers.

"There are no promises in life, Bones. But the thought of leaving you and the kids behind, it just got to me, you know? And then in the bedroom, I knew what you were thinking about. And I hated myself for it. For putting you through it."

"So what was tonight's dream then? If is wasn't about those two weeks?" she asked softly. "If you want to tell me about it."

He turned and leaned back against the sink. Sliding her hand down his arm, she took his in hers again.

The quiet strength in that grip gave him what he needed to finish this. "I dreamt of my death. You standing over my headstone. But I knew I was dreaming. I was trying to tell you that I wasn't dead. A little of this mixed up with a little of the past, I guess."

"I'd be okay," she said, not sure if it would help. "I wouldn't be the same. I could never be the same. Okay is probably the best I would ever be again. What we have-"

"Is why people draw breath," he interrupted, his voice just as soft and intense as hers. When he caught her curious glance, he lifted his shoulders. "Something Aldo said to me before we got married. What the two of us have is why people drew breath. Or something like that."

Brennan tilted her head and thought about it before nodding. "That's as good an explanation as any. When I thought you were dead all of those years ago, it was different. There was regret then, a sense that I missed out on something. Now, your death would crush me, Booth. Don't ever think otherwise. But I have these memories, this life we've shared to help me get through. No regrets," she finished, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile.

"Come on," she said, tugging his hand. "You need sleep. We have an interview tomorrow. And a case to finish solving. And your ghost to get rid of."

"You never doubted, not for a moment," he said. There was a touch of wonder in his voice. He didn't understand how after everything he'd done in his life, he'd been gifted with her.

"I've doubted lots of things in my life, Booth. But you have never been one of those things. For you, I'll believe in anything."


	18. Chapter 18

"You're better today," Brennan said after the kids were dropped off. Booth had made breakfast for all of them and it had been a happy, stress free morning.

He glanced away from the road for a moment before turning back. "Yeah," he said. "I'm good. No dreams after we went back to sleep. Just peace."

It was easy to see in the way he carried himself, at least for her. He had enough stress in his life from outside sources without adding to it himself.

"What time is the mother expecting us?" Brennan asked. It was time to move their focus back to the case and finish this. Then maybe their life would return to what they considered normal.

"We'll head there before I drop you off at the Lab, if that's okay? I told her we'd be there early. But I didn't get the impression that she'd have a lot of information for us."

"Do you think the GPS will behave this time?" Brennan joked.

He didn't take his eyes from the road, but one side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "I put a paper map in the glove box. Just in case."

The time passed quickly as they talked about the case and their adventure in the woods. Soon they were pulling in front of a white house, flowers decorating the front porch.

It was quaint and well taken care of. The flowers made the house more attractive than those on either side of it.

A woman sat there in a rocking chair. Seeing the SUV pull up in front of her house, she rose and watched them approach.

"Mrs. Sanders? I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is Dr. Temperance Brennan." They stood at the base of the steps looking up at her.

Her eyes shifted back and forth between the two of them. "I talked to you on the phone," she said suspiciously. "You were asking questions about my daughter."

"Yes, ma'am." He paused to take a breath and he saw the truth in her eyes before she just as quickly pushed it away again. "I regret to inform you that your daughter's body has been positively identified."

The eyes darted back and forth even faster than before. "Her body?" she echoed. "Are you telling me she's dead?"

"Yes, she's dead," Brennan answered. "Her body was discovered in a cabin several days ago."

It was like the air had been let out of a balloon. Mrs. Sanders sagged, grabbing the railing for support. Booth took one step up, but she held out her hand. "Don't," she said sharply. Drawing a deep breath and then a second, she straightened herself back up and faced them. "I suppose you better come up and have a seat."

She was a small woman, shorter than her daughter. But based on what Booth had seen, both from the ghost and the driver's license photos, their coloring was similar.

Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance before climbing the steps. Mrs. Sanders returned to her seat in the rocking chair but the two of them remained standing.

"Can you tell us the last time you saw your daughter?" Booth asked. Reaching into his pocket, he removed the index cards he usually took notes on.

Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, but that was the only outward sign of the grief that was pressing like a weight on her chest. "Two years, six months and five days ago. The day she told me she wasn't going to college and had big plans for her life that didn't include this city. I went to bed that night and she was gone the next morning. Last I ever heard from her."

The chair she sat in began to rock, slowly at first, then faster and faster as the tale was told. "I thought," she said imploringly to them, "that she'd met with a boy and run away. I just assumed he picked her up when I was sleeping. Tried to tell myself that she was making a life for herself in California or something and would let me know eventually."

"How was your relationship before she left?" Brennan asked. It wasn't entirely logical, this woman's thought process. But Brennan could understand the need to believe someone was alive even when evidence told you they weren't.

"We had our ups and downs," Mrs. Sanders said. "But no more than any other teenager had with her mother. But the other option, this option," she said, her voice catching for the first time, "wasn't something I could think about."

"You mentioned you hoped she'd met a boy. Did she have a boyfriend?" A lover would be an easy suspect. If her daughter had been murdered by a stranger, it was possible they'd never solve the case.

Her lips pressed together before she finally nodded. "Todd. Todd Jefferson. He disappeared the same day she did. I never saw him again after that. That's why I thought they were together. His parents moved a while back. His mom got sick, I think. I lost track of them."

Booth nodded at Brennan, indicating it was time to leave the woman to her grief.

Returning the index cards to his pocket, he pulled out a business card. "If you think of anything else."

"I should ask you what happened," Mrs. Sanders said, continuing her fast paced rocking. "But I don't think I want to know. It's clearly murder or you wouldn't be here. Can you at least tell me if she suffered?"

A long time ago, Brennan might have struggled with this question. Or admitted she didn't know how long it had taken the daughter to die. But Booth had been a good teacher when it came to this. "She didn't suffer, Mrs. Sanders." Her voice was kind, but she made sure there was nothing but truth in her eyes.

Booth's hand pressed into the small of her back as they started down the steps. Some things about this job never got any easier. She supposed that was a good thing. If it was easy to tell someone about the death of their loved one, it was time for a new job.

"One more thing," Mrs. Sanders called out behind them. She'd risen and was holding on the rail again. "Her sneakers."

The words had both of them freezing in place. It was Booth who finally turned around. "What about her sneakers?"

"They reappeared on my porch the morning after she left. At least, I don't think they were there the day before. I was never quite sure after it happened. Or maybe she dropped them when she left that night." Her eyes had a spark of hope in them, thinking the information might be useful.

"Do you still have the shoes?" Booth asked.

Mrs. Sanders nodded. "Never could get rid of them. I used to get so angry," she tried to continue, but she was rapidly losing control of her grief, "when she left them where I could trip over them. It was the last time she did it. I never could let them go."

The information finally out, she put her face in her hands and wept.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: I want to thank all those reviewing. It helps to keep me going and is greatly appreciated. _

The shoes were in an evidence bag in the back of the SUV. While the ride to the house had been filled with banter between the two of them, the ride back was initially filled with nothing but silence.

It never got any easier, watching families fall apart. Someday, far into the future, when he didn't do field work anymore, that was one aspect of his job Booth wasn't going to miss.

"You did a good job," Booth said after a while. "With the mother. Telling her that her daughter didn't suffer."

"It wasn't a lie," Brennan said. "Might not be the truth. I'll never know one way or the other. Sometimes the lie is better." A hard lesson to learn, but she felt that she understood it now. "Do you think the mom will eventually want to know what happened?"

"Yeah," Booth said solemnly. "When the shock wears off and she accepts what we told her. She'll have questions and want answers."

"We'll have them for her," Brennan said, her usual confidence evident in her voice.

"Do you think you'll find anything on the shoes?" Booth asked. "They are the same ones, in case you were wondering. My ghost, the one that walked out of the woods, was wearing the same pair."

She'd wondered, but was waiting for him to offer the information. Tilting her head, Brennan thought about his question. "The victim didn't put the shoes on the porch. My guess would be the killer did, though I don't understand why. Some sort of apology?" She didn't say it, but Booth knew she was thinking about how much she hated psychology. Despite the conversation, he almost laughed. "Hodgins might be able to get something from them."

"Yeah, the shoes don't make a lot of sense. Maybe the death was an accident and the killer felt guilty." He shrugged. "First suspect will be the boyfriend. If we can find him. A couple of years is plenty of time to disappear. Leave the country."

"I hate psychology," she muttered and this time Booth did chuckle. Guess she couldn't stop herself from saying it after all. "Why return a pair of shoes.? That suggests the killer knew her and knew where she lived. Making it even more likely it was the boyfriend. Hopefully he left a record of himself somewhere."

Her investigative skills had improved during the years they'd worked together. As had his ability to name the bones in the human body, even if he still pretended not to know what was going on half the time.

"We won't find him that easily. Nothing about this has been clear from the beginning. I have a feeling we might never have an answer for all the questions." His gut was talking. And it told him this case might have a resolution, but he wasn't going to be completely satisfied with it.

"Like your ghost?" she couldn't help but ask.

"That would be one of them," he agreed easily. Several more minutes passed before he spoke again. "I guess I wonder, why me? Why us? How did we end up lost in the woods that night? Why am I the only one who can see her? Is it just because of the two of us, I'm the believer in that sort of thing. You are willing to put it aside but normally you'd be rationalizing the hell out of it."

They couldn't have been the first people to drive near that area or down that road. What had made that night so special?

She wanted to disagree with the last sentence, but couldn't. Unfortunately, she couldn't come up with any rational explanations for what they were experiencing. Otherwise, Booth would be right in how she'd be reacting. "Maybe the simplest answer is the correct one. She appeared to you because you believe. You don't know that she hasn't appeared before. But your belief allowed you to see what many of us would ignore or choose not to go along with. You accepted the easiest."

He glanced toward her. "You don't think you are accepting this easily?" he asked. "Have you considered everything you've just gone along with the past several days? The rational part of you has been tucked in a box somewhere." It was odd having her agree so readily. Wondering what she might say or do when strange things happened was almost as much of a mystery as the ghost.

A furrow appeared between her brows. "No part of me has been tucked in a box, Booth. I still find this very hard to understand." Starting out the window for a moment, she tried to organize her thoughts. "But the other night, on the platform, your argument made sense to me. And there is you."

This time his glance toward her was longer. Sometimes he hated having these conversations when they were in the SUV. He liked to watch her face and see the emotions run through her eyes when she was talking. That was almost impossible when he was driving down the busy city streets.

"What about me?"

She shrugged and her cheeks colored slightly. It was an interesting reaction. She'd told him simplest explanations were often the best. So that's what she went with. "You believe in ghosts, I believe in you. That makes it easier for me. That is how I'm rationalizing this. It seems to be working for me."

The thought of her giving up her entire belief system for him was both humbling and terrifying. He shook his head, trying to frame a comment or response that encompassed exactly what that meant to him.

He couldn't come up with a thing.

"You're pretty amazing. But you know that already," he finally said. "But I don't expect you to do that for me."

"I love you. I've killed to protect you. There is very little I wouldn't do for you. Believing or at least going along with the idea of a ghost doesn't seem so hard after that." She gave him a warm smile to chase the seriousness away. "But I still like it when you say things like that to me," she admitted, reaching for her ringing phone. "And I am amazing," she agreed.

Booth shook his head and half listened to her conversation as he kept driving. Something, the tone of her voice maybe, had him pressing on the accelerator a little harder, trying to get them back to the city.

He was reaching for the lights when she hung up the phone. Despite the concern in her eyes, her hand reached out and stopped him.

"What's going on, Bones?" he asked her.

"That was Angela. She asked us to hurry and get back to the Lab." She'd said a few other things too, but none of it was pertinent to what Brennan was trying to relay to Booth.

"Is something wrong? Security couldn't get much tighter around that place." He had personally overseen some of the changes that had been made since the explosion. It would be almost impossible to have a repeat of that disaster.

"There's plenty wrong, but security probably can't deal with this." She turned and gave Booth the full weight of her stare. "Our ghost has reappeared. And I think she's pissed."


	20. Chapter 20

He heard her refer to it as our ghost and while he would have liked more time to think about what that comment meant, he wasn't going to get it.

Pulling into the parking garage a bit too fast, Booth retrieved the sneakers from the back of the vehicle and hurried to catch up with Brennan. Until they knew exactly what was going on, she wasn't going anywhere alone.

They rounded the corner to the Lab and were greeted with an interesting version of chaos. The main door was sliding open and closed, but never far enough for anyone in the Lab to get in or out. The lights were flashing in some sort of pattern before turning off completely then starting the sequence all over again. Inside the room, Brennan could see computer screens flashing on and off. Several techs were answering phones then looking around with confused faces. They'd hang them up, only to listen to them ring and start the whole process over again.

"Any suggestions on how to get in there?" Brennan asked. She'd tried to time an entrance between the sliding doors, but couldn't quite get through. "I know you worked on the security of this place. Don't tell me you didn't build a back way in."

Booth froze, the light and sound show disappearing into the background. How many things did she know that she never mentioned? And how many of those things were things she shouldn't know?

Of course he had a back way in, but he'd never shared that fact with anyone. Only the head of the security company knew about it. It didn't even appear in the plans to prevent anyone from finding out that it existed.

"I know you aren't psychic, but how do you know the stuff that you do? Being a genius isn't an explanation either," Booth demanded. He was torn between frustration and amazement at the way her mind worked.

"It's neither psychic ability or intelligence," Brennan said as the light show continued behind them. Angela was waving at them from inside, but the pair ignored her. "You love me. You would never put me in a place where I could be locked in and you locked out. Especially now that you can no longer shoot your way in. You would always have another way. It's just a part of you protecting me. Even when I don't need you to," she couldn't help adding.

"No one is supposed to know that," he grumbled, knowing he'd just confirmed her assumption. "But before I give it away, would you be willing to try something else?"

Brennan nodded. "I don't want you to tell me unless there is no other choice. What do you have in mind?"

Turning them so he faced the Lab and Brennan stood with her back to it, he started talking softly. "I'm guessing that Michelle knows we went to see her mother. I'm also guessing that she is upset knowing that her mother is upset. It's clear they loved each other, so Michelle knows how she reacted even when she wasn't there to see it."

While it appeared he was talking to her, his comments were clearly meant for someone or something else.

One of the bulbs blew inside the Lab. Brennan lifted her eyes toward the now darkened light and then brought them back to Booth. "I'm not sure this is helping."

Booth looked over Brennan's shoulder to see Michelle appear briefly. Angela gave a violent shudder as the apparition walked through her and disappeared again.

"We know about Todd," Booth continued. "We know about the sneakers that he took from the crime scene." He lifted his hand slightly so they were visible to whoever might be watching. "We will find him. But you need to stop screwing with the Lab and let us work."

Frustration leaked through as he spoke the last sentence. The volume of his voice had also increased, but no one in the Lab would have heard him over the ringing phones.

Fighting an assailant you couldn't see was frustrating as hell. They shouldn't even be fighting. She was getting the best they had, just as all their victims did.

The doors slid smoothly open behind them. Booth gave Brennan a dark look. "Nice to know the security can be defeated by a not so friendly ghost."

If Brennan understood the allusion, she ignored it. Together they hurried through the open door. It closed again as soon as they were clear.

Hodgins was moving frantically from station to station. He picked up a ringing phone only to slam it down again when there was nothing but static. "This is ridiculous," he shouted over the noise. "I figured they'd cut corners, but now I'm starting to wonder if the whole building is going to come down on top of us."

The off-handed comment brought back memories that made Booth's stomach clench. But when he caught Brennan's eye roll, he had to bite back a laugh.

"The building is not going to fall, Dr. Hodgins," she said, raising her voice. "Could you take the shoes Booth has and look for particulate evidence? I'm hoping for skin cells from the laces."

Angela had approached them and put a hand on her husband's shoulder. Her mouth dropped open in shock. "You think we can work like this?"

"Are you serious?" Hodgins asked at the same time. "Can't you see and hear what is going on around us? How do expect me to work in these conditions?"

Brennan looked around her. "Because there are things we need to accomplish. Call maintenance and see if they can fix this disaster. It's the lights, phones and computer screens that seem to be impacted. That means you should still be able to do some work."

There was a vaguely disappointed tone to her voice at the thought of him refusing to work because of a few distractions. Reaching toward Booth, she took the shoes from him and handed them to Hodgins. "We have a case I want to solve."

The voice in her head that asked her what the hell she was doing was ignored. No one could work in these conditions. But somehow that ghost needed to be convinced they could take care of this. This was about solving a crime and getting justice. If the methods she chose to use were a little unusual, it wouldn't be the first time.

As if someone had hit a switch, the phones stopped ringing. The sudden silence was as deafening as the noise had been. Booth raised an eyebrow, but continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. "And I need to get back to my office and see what I can dig up on Todd Jefferson. Maybe find an address for him or his parents."

The words had barely left his mouth when the lights stopped flickering. Seconds later, the computer screens did the same, everything returning to full power.

"I'm calling everyone I can think of to get this place checked out," Hodgins declared. "The electrical issues we've been having are unacceptable." He headed toward his office, sneakers in his lap, muttering the entire way.

Making sure Angela had followed Hodgins, Brennan leaned toward Booth. "I find it makes me very unhappy that she can mess with my Lab."

"She needs to quit messing with this place or we'll never get this done." Booth ran a hand down his cheek. "She's just giving me another reason to hate Halloween. Clowns are bad enough, but now I dislike ghosts too."

"Oh, I don't know," Brennan said softly. She brought her lips closer to Booth. "Halloween isn't all bad. I still have that Wonder Woman costume in the closet."

The groan was barely audible but she still caught it. He didn't need to remember all that glorious skin that was on display. Skin he would only get to fantasize about for years after that night.

"Is she here?" Brennan asked, looking around. She didn't figure

she'd be able to see her, but couldn't stop herself from looking.

Booth shook his head. "I imagine she used up all her energy messing up your stuff. Find your evidence. I'm going back to my office to do the same. I want to finish this."


	21. Chapter 21

"Todd Jefferson," Aubrey said, entering Booth's office, "has no record of employment in the last fourteen months. No tax return was filed either."

Aubrey burst through the door with a plate of muffins in one hand and a file in the other. With a flourish, he placed them on the desk in front of Booth, then took one for himself.

Booth glanced down at the plate to see there were still two left. And wouldn't Aubrey be surprised when Booth got both of them.

"I can't find a record of him past that point either," Booth said, taking the file from Aubrey's hand and flipping through it. "And we are making a lot of assumptions that he was even in that cabin with our victim to begin with."

However, based on the ghost's reactions this morning, Booth was sure they were on the right track.

Unfortunately, Caroline was going to expect something a little more concrete than a ghost that only he could see. It wasn't even worth a phone call until he had some actual evidence to share with her.

Besides, all the evidence in the world was useless if they didn't have the location of their suspect.

Booth slapped his hand down on the file. "Where has this kid been for the last year? I shouldn't even refer to him as that," he said, looking back at the papers. "He is several years older than our victim."

Aubrey settled himself into a chair. "Theories?" he asked. "Including theories on how you got lost in the woods and found the place."

"We weren't lost," Booth argued. "I don't get lost. The SUV died. Then restarted again in the morning."

"Yeah, that makes perfect sense." Aubrey reached for another muffin, only to snatch his hand back when Booth took a swipe at him. "Then what do you think happened in that cabin?"

"I don't know," Booth said. Clearly frustrated, he tilted back in his chair and stared at the ceiling of his office. "I can see taking her out to the cabin for a little privacy. The victim told her mother that she was taking off for someplace else. So they go out the cabin, she tells him she's leaving and he shoots her? Doesn't feel right to me. Mom had the impression they were leaving together."

"What if it was an accident?" Aubrey suggested. "Or some sort of game. She's in bed and he pulls out a gun to show her. Accidentally shoots her and leaves her there. I imagine there wouldn't have been time for him to go for help if he shot her in the chest."

Picking up a baseball from his desk, Booth tossed it in the air, thinking about what Aubrey said. "And because he was guilty, he took the sneakers back to the mother? Odd apology. Hey, I killed your kid, sorry about that. But I brought her sneakers back." Except, he could almost see something like that happening.

Eyeing the muffins still on the desk, Aubrey considered his chances of grabbing one when Booth was distracted. Watching him toss the ball, he figured Booth was paying better attention than he appeared to be.

"Goes home," Aubrey continued, giving up on the food, "and confesses to his parents. Unable to look at the mother every single day, they sell their house and move."

"So," Booth said suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. Placing the baseball back on the desk, he pulled his keyboard toward him. "We might have better luck finding the parents than we've had finding the son. He might be living under an assumed name, but I bet his parents aren't."

The sound of clicking keys filled the office. When Aubrey moved, Booth looked up in surprise. "What are you still doing here? Go see if you can find work records for the parents. I'll look for mortgage records. Rental agreements. Something like that."

Standing quickly, Aubrey paused at the door. He looked mournfully at the remaining muffins but shifted his eyes quickly when he caught Booth's dark glare. "Don't you usually have Angela do things like this for you? Why don't you go over there and have her do this? Would probably be quicker." A thought occurred to Aubrey. "You two didn't have another fight, did you?"

"Angela and I don't fight," Booth snapped. At least, not much anymore. They had formed an uneasy truce with each other that had turned into a sort of friendship again. They worked hard to keep it that way. It hurt Bones when they didn't get along and Booth did everything in his power not to hurt her.

"Okay," Aubrey said, dragging out the word. "Then why isn't she doing this? You know her computers are better than ours. You've said so yourself. Many times. Usually when you're frustrated after trying to find things. We both know where this is going to end."

Booth bit back the sigh. Aubrey wasn't wrong. But telling the man he was avoiding the Jeffersonian because of a ghost wasn't really an option either.

"Aubrey, stop talking. I don't want to go to the Jeffersonian right now. We can handle this. It's just a basic search."

If he thought his answer would appease the man, he was wrong. "You're fighting with Dr. Brennan?" Aubrey grabbed the frame of the door. Lowering his voice, he whispered, "If people find out about that, you know money will start exchanging hands."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Booth lifted his eyes toward Aubrey. Was that really the next option? If he wasn't fighting with Angela then he had to be fighting with Bones?

"Bones and I aren't fighting. I'm simply trying to do my job. Go try and help me out if you have nothing better to do. And stop making guesses about my social life."

Shaking his head, clearly unconvinced, Aubrey left the office. When the door closed softly behind him, Booth shoved the keyboard away from him in annoyance. He glanced at the muffins Aubrey had been forced to leave behind and reached for one.

He was avoiding the Jeffersonian. Because of a ghost.

Nope, didn't sound any better the second time.

Even if the ghost had a temper tantrum each time she was upset or didn't like something they did. She acted like an immature teenager. Was that how she'd been in life? Or had being murdered applified that portion of her personality?

A quick glance to his left showed him the pile of paperwork that he still needed to complete this week. If he didn't start making a dent in it, he was going to have to spend some late nights at the office. Something he hated with every fiber of his being. Every minute here was a minute he wasn't spending with Bones.

The victim deserved the best he could offer. And the best computer person he knew was at the Jeffersonian. Was he really not going to take advantage of her skills?

When you looked at it that way, it really was a better choice to just delegate this to Angela. It would cut the search time in half, maybe even less than that. And the sooner he had answers, the sooner the ghost would be gone.

A suspect was what he needed. Not a frustrating computer search.

Happy to have convinced himself, Booth picked up his phone. "Hey, Angela," he greeted, reaching for the first folder of paperwork he needed to complete. "Do you have time to do a records search for me?"


	22. Chapter 22

"I made a dent in the paperwork," Booth announced. Several bags were dropped on the table in Brennan's office. "And I brought lunch to you."

"That's a change," Brennan said, rising from her desk to join him at the table. "I would have thought you'd do everything possible to avoid spending time in this place."

"Yeah," Booth said, taking food from the bags, "I decided that I shouldn't be scared of ghosts."

He shifted to see the door, making sure he'd closed it behind them.

"I believe there is only one ghost, Booth," she corrected.

Considering the bodies that had come through this place, Booth wasn't sure he could agree with her. But it was an argument neither would win and he had no desire to start it. "And I wanted to spend some time with you."

"We could have done that at the diner," she reminded him.

Shrugging, he pulled her chair out for her. "Just you and me today, Bones."

Startled at the confession, she sat down and waited for him to sit across from her. "Is there something wrong?"

"What?" he asked, looking up from the container he'd been ready to dig into. "No, there's nothing wrong? Why would there be something wrong?"

Wondering how she'd gotten so lost in this conversation, Brennan worked to get back on solid ground. "So there is nothing wrong. You just wanted to spend time with me." The sentences made sense but there was still confusion in her voice. Sometimes you could understand all the words and still not have any idea what was going on.

The container hit the table with a thud. Reaching out, he took one of her hands in his. "There is nothing wrong. But between this case and the kids and everything else in our lives, I feel like the only time we've seen each other is in the middle of the night when I'm waking us up." His face twisted into a grimace at the mention of his nightmares. "I just wanted a few stolen minutes with you, even if the best I could do was your office, a take out lunch and a possible visit from our ghost."

Finally understanding, she gave him a warm smile. "Is there any chance we won't talk about the kids or the case while we have this lunch?" she asked, reaching for her own container of food. Pleased with the choices, she gave a contented hum at the first bite. "Sometimes I don't realize how hungry I am until you show up with food."

"Eating with you has been a favorite part of my day for a long time," he admitted, delighting in the way her eyes lit up at the second bite. "Being with you makes all the traffic worth it."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "Are you trying to get something, Booth. You're full of compliments today."

"Nope," he said. But he tucked the romantic part of him away. Hopefully to pull out later after the kids were asleep. "We can't find our suspect," he said, changing subjects abruptly. "No records for the past year."

"Angela mentioned she was doing a records search for you." Now her eyes narrowed. "Is that how you managed to get all the paperwork done? You don't get to delegate your work to my associates."

Not even trying to hide the guilt in his eyes, he gave a slightly embarrassed shrug. "You know I'm terrible at that stuff," he said, barely managing not to whine. "She'll find it in half the time it would take me. Aubrey offered to help, but he was busy drooling over muffins and trying to decide if you and I were fighting."

"Fighting?" she asked, confused again. Maybe it was better they ate in the diner. Conversations there never made her feel like this.

Selecting another container, Booth moved the fork in a circle. "He thinks I'm avoiding this place because we are fighting."

"A more likely explanation than a ghost," Brennan said, reaching for the container Booth had abandoned.

He smiled at the move. Some things never changed. "We are trying to locate his parents. If he's off the grid, that may be our best chance of a lead."

"Off the grid?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Does that mean living under an assumed name?"

"Among other things," Booth said. He tossed his fork to the table. "But he could be anywhere by now. Perhaps not even in the country."

The announcement was met with silence until Brennan laughed nervously. "It appears that when we deliver bad news about this case, we are now both waiting for something to happen."

"Thank you for this, Bones," he said suddenly. His voice was low, the comment meant just for her.

Seriously, she was confused again? Third time since lunch began. This was ridiculous. "I didn't bring lunch, Booth. You did." It was the most obvious thing he might be thanking her for, but she knew she was wrong as soon as the words left her mouth.

"I know I brought lunch. Just for believing in me. That's all. I just feel like I need to keep thanking you for it. Doesn't make sense, but it means a lot to me and I want to make sure you know it."

Okay, that she understood. "Do you remember," she cut herself off and shook her head. "I know you remember when I lost my memory, lost who I was-"

"Stop," he said sharply, interrupting her. "You were always, Bones. My Bones. You lost nothing."

His eyes darkened with anger, but the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. "And on that, we disagree. We love and support each other through whatever happens. This is just another branch of the same thing, Booth. So stop thanking me."

Leaning back, arms across his chest, he stared. Finally he nodded. "Just so you know I appreciate it."

She stared into his eyes until he shifted them and paled slightly.

"Again?" she asked. Her voice was resigned.

Booth nodded. He studied her, eyes traveling down the form and up again.

If he could have seen himself, he would have realized the look on his face was similar to the one Brennan bore when she studied bones. Brennan recognized it, but chose not to mention it. There were times when simple comments like that made him self conscious.

"She looks sad," Booth commented. "When I saw her in the woods, there wasn't much of an expression on her face." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to picture it. "In the Lab that night, she looked intense as she watched you." His eyes reopened and met Brennan's. "Now, she just looks sad."

"We're making good progress," Brennan said, not sure if she was reassuring him or the ghost he said was standing behind her. "Better than I expected. I thought the identification would be more difficult hindering our progress. We are getting there."

"We can make all the progress in the world. But at the end of it, her mother still mourns and she's still dead." Irritated, but not sure with what, Booth stood and began to clear off the table.

Brennan stood to help him, but came over to his side of the table. After bumping into her, Booth looked at her curiously. "Afraid of the ghost?"

"I don't know where she's standing and I don't want to walk through her. But, no, I'm not afraid of her."

Booth shook his head. Somehow, the comment made perfect sense coming from his very rational partner.

But the comment must have been premonition as only seconds later, Angela opened the door and walked into the office. Her path took her through the center of the figure. It disappeared as soon as Angela stepped through her.

The shudder she gave was obvious to both Booth and Brennan. "You should get the air conditioning looked at in here," Angela commented, rubbing at her arms. "That's one heck of a draft."

It was too much for Booth. Of all the people he knew, it was Angela who had the best chance of also seeing the spectral visitor. That she hadn't let him know he'd be the only one gifted that ability.

"I'll get it checked," Brennan said vaguely. "Or have Hodgins put it on his list."

Rolling her eyes, Angela laughed. "That list is already too long. I'm glad you're here," she said, shifting her attention to Booth. "I have something for you."


	23. Chapter 23

"The parents sold their house six months after what we estimated as the time of death." Angela pulled up the paperwork from the sale and displayed it on the screen to the left. "They listed and sold it for significantly less than market value."

Booth leaned back against a table in the room and gripped the edges until he knew there would be marks on the palms of his hands. He could feel her, his ghost, standing too close and the knuckles of his hands whitened. "Wanted to get out of town in a hurry," he concluded. His countenance was calm but on the interior he was crawling out of his skin.

He was starting to think that instead of next to him, his ghost was standing right on top of him. His head was pounding and there was a weird pressure on the inside of his skull. While the rest of his body felt like something was trying to escape, this felt like something trying to worm its way in.

"That was my guess too," Angela said, studying him out of the corner of her eye. He was working hard to hide the tension but she noticed the tight grip on the edge of her table. She wondered what she'd interrupted in Brennan's office.

"After that, they rented an apartment in Oklahoma for three months, then Montana for six months. After that, a place in Idaho. They stayed there for quite some time." The specific locations of all three appeared on a map in front of them. "For the last several months, they've been in North Dakota."

"All isolated places," Brennan noted. She also recognized something wasn't quite right with Booth. But she couldn't ask him without drawing attention to it. And any hint of an opening would lead to Angela asking questions neither she nor Booth were willing to answer.

"They moved. A lot," Booth said, emphasizing the word moved slightly. But if the ghost caught it, she didn't listen because the crawling beneath his skin did not go away. And his head was going to explode.

Starting to worry, Brennan stepped back until she stood next to him. He was pale and there were lines around his eyes that typically indicated he had a tension headache. Turning her body slightly, she put her hand over one of his and left it there.

Angela caught the move, but one look at Brennan had her swallowing the question she was about to ask. Later, she'd ask for an explanation, not that she planned on getting one. If they wanted to keep whatever was going on between the two of them, that's where it would stay.

Booth flipped his hand and grasped hers. That he needed that from her had Brennan squeezing just a little bit tighter.

That touch, the feel of her skin on his, grounded him. The feeling that something was trying to claw its way from beneath his skin disappeared as quickly as it had come. As did the unrelenting pressure inside his skull. Hissing out a quiet sigh, he gave Brennan a grateful look.

It would always come back to her. Her strength and her love. No words or actions would ever accurately convey the depth of his feelings for her. She might not believe in the unknown, but she apparently had the skills to fight it.

"I searched the towns they stayed in as well as anything within a one day's drive of where they were staying. I couldn't find any record of the son," Angela said continuing her presentation.

"So we still don't have anything," Booth said, straightening from the table. But his hand stayed locked around Brennan's. Until he left this building, it was going to be hard to persuade himself to let go.

"Not so fast," Angela said quickly. She knew how he felt about this place. The fact that he'd managed to eat lunch here and stay for this was impressive. But she knew he wouldn't last much longer. "I did some checking. And each time the parents left, another apartment or rental was suddenly empty. Usually in the same town. Sometimes in the same building."

She brought up those records, placing them on the screen. "None of them were rented under the son's name. Well, at least not his last name," she said, allowing them to look at the information.

"Todd Smith, Todd Baker and Todd Miller. Same first name and very common last names," Brennan said. Her eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't there be another name? Something from where the parents are now."

"You would think so," Angela said. "But I couldn't find anything. Nothing that even came close."

Brennan turned to Booth. "What are you thinking?" she asked. "Do you think the son left after their stay in Idaho. Went somewhere else?"  
He'd been giving himself a mental pep talk. Attempting to make himself believe that dropping Brennan's hand would not lead to the creepy sensations coming back.

Slowly he unwrapped his fingers from hers and took a step toward

the screens. "I think the parents suspect what happened in that cabin. Or knew that something wasn't right. I think they were hiding their son. They wouldn't have stopped doing that. Did you trace the payments, Angela?" he asked.

"I couldn't find a record of most," Angela said, opening up a new set of documents. "My guess would be they were usually paid in cash. But, there were a couple of withdrawals that could have been rent payments."

"They were paying for both places. So either they ran out of money and could only afford one place this time or something happened to the son. They wouldn't leave him behind." Booth knew what they had to do. But they did very little traveling together since their children had been born. It was easier for her to stay home and for him to go and do the interviews. Normally it didn't bother him to do it alone, but this time was different.

He wanted, no needed her to go with him. To keep the nightmares at bay and help him when they came anyway. This case was bringing old wounds back to the surface and he didn't want to relive them alone.

Brennan understanding his dilemma, looked to Angela. "Is it too much to ask for you to take the kids for one more night. I think we need to fly out early tomorrow and interview the parents."

Surprised that she'd suggested it, Booth tried to argue. "You don't have to go, Bones. You stay home with the kids, I'll be fine." Words spoken automatically, not acknowledging he'd thought the exact opposite only moments before.

Crossing her arms, Brennan ignored him and continued to look at Angela. She knew he'd be fine and also knew he'd be better if she was there. "If you can't do it," she said, "I can ask Aubrey."

Angela narrowed her eyes. "Taking your children for a night is never a problem. If you are willing to take them next week so Hodgins and I can have a date night."

"That sounds agreeable. Sound okay to you, Booth?" she asked.

He knew any disagreement at this point was useless. Her mind was made up and asking his opinion on the matter was only her attempt at including him in the decision.

Anger simmering just beneath the surface at her refusal to stay home, Booth refused to remember that only seconds before he'd been desperate for her to go. But that it was her idea made him feel less than capable in her eyes.

And he didn't like that.

He also knew he was being entirely irrational about this. On edge from everything that was happening, he was just looking for a reason to get angry, a way to let off some steam.

Seemed this problem, that he was clearly going to blow way out of proportion, was it.

Knowing all that, he still couldn't stop himself.

"Whatever you two decide. Doesn't matter what I want. I'll go make the reservations," he said, brushing past Brennan and stomping out of the office.

Eyes widening at his sudden change in mood, Angela looked to Brennan for some sort of clarification.

But Brennan shook her head. "No idea," she said.

"Everything okay between you two?"

"Yes," Brennan said. "We're fine." Brennan attempted a reassuring smile but Angela didn't look convinced. "I promise. Now let's get everything set up for our kids."

Focusing on details gave her something to think about. Later, she'd figure out what was going on with Booth.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Only a week until Halloween and the good news is that I have the rest of the chapters pretty much written. So as long as my internet or power doesn't go out or there isn't a zombie apocalypse, there should be daily updates through the end of the story._

_Thanks again for all the wonderful comments._

There were flowers in his hand when he came home that night. Brennan hadn't been sure when she would see him. Other than a terse answer telling her he was back at the office, she hadn't heard a word from him all afternoon.

Knowing that something had happened in Angela's office, it had been hard to wait. But she'd forced herself to focus on other things that afternoon and not what her husband was being forced to deal with.

There was more than one bouquet. The smaller one, made of daisies, he handed to Christine, smiling over her excitement. The worry lines around his eyes faded a little as he accepted her delighted hug. Brennan helped her to select a vase and arrange them in a place she was happy with.

Listening to her excited chatter, Booth gave the larger bunch to Brennan. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll explain later, if you're willing to wait."

Not even aware that they'd been fighting enough that flowers were warranted, she shrugged. "I can wait."

Christine, unaccustomed to receiving flowers for any reason, asked if her bunch could be on the table during dinner. Then moved to her room at bedtime. When Booth came in to read her a story, they were on her dresser.

"My flowers are beautiful, Daddy," she said, her eyes drifting back to look at them one more time. She'd tried really hard to focus on the words while Booth was reading but her eyes kept moving toward her dresser.

"I'm glad you like them, pumpkin," he said softly. It had been one of his better decisions that day. "Go to sleep, they'll still be here in the morning."

"Mommy says they won't last forever," she complained.

Booth chuckled. "They won't. But if they did, I wouldn't have an

excuse to buy you more."

Flicking off the light, he turned to see Brennan watching him. "You made her day, Booth," she commented, waiting for him to do a final check of the locks before following him to their bedroom.

"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "What girl doesn't like to get flowers once in a while?"

Unexpected gestures like this weren't rare when it came to Booth, but it wasn't the norm either. "Hers were for fun. Mine were for an entirely different reason. What happened today?"

She'd run the scene in Angela's office over and over in her mind. But nothing she'd come up with had made sense.

There were so many answers to that question, Booth had to think about where to start. But from the moment they'd entered Angela's office, everything felt wrong. Explaining it wasn't going to be easy.

"I was an idiot. I am an idiot," he said. "That's what the flowers are for. But that's not all that happened." Pillows were tossed from the bed as he got it ready for them to climb in. Normally he placed them a little more neatly, but the motion vented some of the frustration he had with himself.

"Are you going to explain that comment?" she asked, mirroring his motions on her own side of the bed. "Because while you can be irrational and at times a hopeless romantic, I would not refer to you using that word."

He barked out a laugh. No, she would never call him an idiot, even if he was currently feeling that way.

"When we first got into Angela's office, I wanted to climb right out of my skin," he said, starting from the beginning. "I have never felt like that in my life and I hope I never do again."

"What do you think caused it?" Brennan asked. "Perhaps you are a bit stressed out from the case."

"I am, stressed," he admitted. "But this was not stress. It felt like," he paused and looked up at her, his eyes desperate for her to try and understand. "If felt like that damn ghost was trying to crawl inside me. And out of me at the same time." That his hands shook when he pulled back the covers concerned her more than the sentence he'd just uttered. "Until you touched me. Jesus, Bones, I love it every single time you touch me. But I feel like this time it saved me from something I can't explain. And I hope I never experience it again."

"So are the flowers for that?" she asked, crawling in next to him. He was clearly shaken by whatever had happened and that alone was enough to make her not question it. Whether it was what he described or not, he didn't need to her rationalize it for him.

He hauled her against him until every part of the back of her body pressed against his front. "I wish it was a thank you," he said, his breath moving the hair on the back of her head. "But it's an apology. I haven't gotten to that part yet."

"Okay." Not liking that she couldn't see his face, she rolled, making sure to tangle her legs with his. But she kept her head back far enough to see him, even in the darkness of their bedroom.

"I was already feeling threatened," Booth continued. "And then I knew we were going to have to go interview the parents. At least I knew I was going to have to go. And while I don't like to go places without you, I accept it as part of my job. But for the first time, I didn't want to go alone."

Her fingers came up to trace down the side of his cheek. "I knew that, Booth. That was why I asked Angela to take the kids."

His eyes closed as he forced the rest of it out. "I was already feeling off. Then it was clear you knew I needed you to go, and it made me feel," he shrugged but kept his eyes closed, "weak, I guess. Too much at once."

Hand now cupping his face, she ran a thumb across his cheek. "Open your eyes, Booth," she ordered softly, waiting until he did. "I didn't mean to make you feel less," she apologized. "My goal was to make you feel better." Her eyes clouded. "Maybe I should have bought you flowers. Though," she continued, "I'm still not entirely sure what you are apologizing for."

"I felt bad for being angry when I knew you were only doing exactly what I needed you to do. What only seconds before I wanted you to do." His forehead dropped against hers. "I need this to be over, Bones. I'm not even sure what it is, but it needs to end."

Tipping her head up, she pressed her lips softly to his. When he deepened the kiss and pulled her against him, she moaned softly. "I have never seen you as weak," she said when he broke the kiss. "I want you to need me, to need whatever I can offer you."

Hands reaching under her sleep shirt, Brennan raised her arms so he could pull it over her head. Right then, it was clear what he needed from her and she was more than happy to give it to him. Tonight, this was how he would find peace. In loving her. "This is going to end tomorrow," she promised him. "But right now, let's just think about this."

Pressing a kiss to the bare skin of her collarbone, Booth couldn't stop himself from agreeing to her plan.

And sending up a prayer that she was right. Hopefully, this case would be closed. Tomorrow.


	25. Chapter 25

They dropped their kids off at daycare and school and headed to the airport. Their flight was on time and both were thankful for it. It was an additional three hour drive from the airport to the location of the apartment.

"I was out here for an excavation once," she commented at one point. "But this area is no more developed now than it was then." She shook her head. "I'm glad I've turned down the last several requests for me to come back here."

That had Booth turning his head toward her. "You've never mentioned that. You know you can go."

She laughed and waved the idea away. "I have you and the kids, Booth. I don't want to. If there is something that needs my expertise, I'm not that hard to find. Using my skills to solve crime is not something I considered when I went to college, but I'm pleased with the way my career has progressed. I don't need to go."

Knowing she didn't lie, Booth nodded. "Just so you know that you can."

"Hodgins just sent me a text," Brennan said, reading from her phone. As far as she was concerned, the subject was closed. She wasn't going anywhere. Not for longer than a day or two and not without her family. "He didn't get much from the shoes. Appeared to be relatively new. Not a lot of wear on the soles. Our victim's epithelial cells were on the sneakers. However," she said, continuing to skim the message, "there also appear to be cells from an unknown male."

"It's Todd. With whatever last name he's going by now," Booth said. "Hopefully we can get something from the parents that we can use to compare the DNA."

Brennan pressed her lips together before tucking the phone back

in her bag. "Without some sort of confession," she said, working to keep her voice level, "I don't think we have enough to charge anyone with a crime? Do we?" she asked. Wanting to be wrong and knowing that she was more than likely correct.

Booth didn't answer for a long time. Turning facts and suspicions over in his head and looking for new angles to attack the case. "No," he finally said. "I don't think we do. But that will be up to Caroline. If they were dating, there is a reason for his DNA to be on the sneakers. He can easily claim he left her alive in that cabin and we don't have anything to prove that isn't what happened. Evidence of a gunshot wound but no weapon. No witnesses. We don't have much."

"Even if we all know that he shot her for reasons unknown." Frustrated, Brennan went back to looking out the window. "So we can give the mother answers, give the ghost answers, but not give them any justice." She couldn't help but feel this was somehow her fault. "Sorry I couldn't get more from the skeleton," she apologized. Had she missed something?

"Not your fault," Booth said sharply, reading her easily. "You know that this happens. We have a great solve rate, best on the East Coast. But not a perfect one. And she'll have her name back. Her mother can bury her. Sometimes, there is only so far we can go."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she complained, looking down at her hands.

"Nope," Booth agreed, "it doesn't mean that you have to like it. But sometimes, you have to live with it."

Silence descended again, but Booth's gut was telling him something still wasn't quite right. He checked the mirror several times, suddenly fearful that their ghost had developed the ability to move away from her skeleton. That the next time he looked, she was going to be in the back seat with them riding along for the interview.

"Sometimes," Brennan said softly, breaking the quiet of the interior, "I still fear that I missed something. When the case is hard or it takes me a little longer to figure something out. Did it used to take me that long? Or is this a result of my head injury."

It was a ghost in the car with them, Booth realized. Just not the one he was expecting.

"You are as brilliant as you were before the explosion. And even if you have slowed down, you are still light years ahead of where anyone else in that Lab is. Where anyone else in the whole damn world is." Her hands remained in her lap and he reached over to grab one. "Where is this coming from?" he asked.

"It's always there, Booth. Just like the idea of your tumor coming back is always somewhere in the back of your mind. I guess not being able to find more brought it closer to the surface." Her shrug was accepting. "I know all my skills are there, even if it might take me an extra second to access them. Just frustration right now, I guess."

He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "You are fine, just like I am. And if one day, one of us isn't, we'll deal with it then. As a team, like we always do. Now quit worrying. We've got a name, a suspect, and we still have a chance at a confession. Let's not give up yet."

Squeezing his hand before releasing it, she went back to staring out the window. "Get a confession, Booth," she ordered him softly. "I don't think any of us will be happy with less."

OOOOOOOO

Each time they made a turn, Booth cringed internally. Was this the moment the GPS glitched. Then they'd find themselves lost in what really was the middle of nowhere.

Towns became spaced further and further apart and soon there was nothing but an open stretch of highway in front of them. If it wasn't for the little computer giving them directions, Booth would have no idea where they were or how to return back to where they'd come from.

Looking over after making the next turn, Booth saw Brennan mark on something in her lap. Curious, he kept his eyes there longer than he should have.

"Booth, pay attention," she said, noting that he was drifting off the side of the road.

Swearing, he straightened the SUV. "What are you doing, Bones?"

"I don't trust the GPS. I've been marking turns on the map I brought with me. So if something happens we can find our way back."

Of course she was that prepared. "Smart idea," he said with a laugh. "It's almost like you read my mind."

Not soon enough for either of them, they pulled up in front of a rundown apartment building. "I think I saw a place where we can eat when this part is done," Brennan said, exiting the vehicle. It was doubtful it would have vegetarian options, but she'd adjust.

Booth's attention was on the building in front of him. "Well that's something, at least. Otherwise, there isn't much here. Good thing we filled up on gas at the last station we saw."

The building had seen better days. The lawn in front hadn't been mowed in some time and there was a bicycle abandoned on the sidewalk, one lonely wheel twirling slowly in the soft breeze.

"Why," Booth demanded, finally coming around the front of the SUV, "does every building we go to during this case have to look haunted? I mean, look at that bike. If that doesn't scream zombie movie apocalypse, I don't know what does."

Shaking her head, she ignored the comment about the bike and how it didn't have vocal cords that would allow it to scream. "Booth, every place we go, every single person we know is haunted by something. Including us. Sometimes those things are just a little more obvious." She waved her hand in front of her. "This building being a good example of that fact."

He froze in mid step and looked at her. His wife, who claimed she didn't understand emotions, often saw things more clearly than anyone else. "Then let's go see what the parents are haunted by. And hope it's close enough to the surface that we can see it."


	26. Chapter 26

The door was opened by a man who looked older than his years. Dark eyes, burdened with worry and something Booth couldn't identify glanced back and forth between them.

He wore jeans and an old sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve. His hair was shaggy and it didn't appear to be a conscious choice. It was clear that he was doing the minimal to take care of himself.

"Mr. Jefferson?" Booth asked, narrowly avoiding the smirk that threatened when he said the name aloud. Then sobered as he wondered what people thought when they said his last name.

He stood tucked behind the cracked door, using it as a shield. "You're cops," he said, not confirming whether or not he was the person they sought.

"Agent Booth," he said, retrieving his identification from his pocket. "I'm here with my partner, Dr. Brennan. Could we come in and ask you some questions?"

The dark eyes traveled back and forth between them again. For a second, Booth thought he was going to close the door in their faces. Which was going to present a whole new set of problems since they didn't have anything that would force the man to talk to them.

Instead, a look of resignation flashed in his eyes. Stepping back, he opened the door wider. "Come in. I know why you're here. Take a seat," he said, waving at both of them. "There is something I have to get."

Sincerely hoping it wasn't a gun, Booth remained standing, making a mental note of what he saw around the apartment.

Or more accurately, what he didn't see. No photos on the walls, no signs that anyone was living there long term. It could be a run down apartment in any city in America. If the current resident decided to move, it wouldn't take longer than a few hours to clear the place out and be gone.

"He lives here," Booth whispered to Brennan, "but it isn't his home. Just a place to stay before he moves on again."

"Furniture is worn out," Brennan noted, moving around the room. "No personal items on any of the surfaces. It seems very lonely."

At the sound of footsteps, both turned, Booth casually keeping his hand near his gun. But when Mr. Jefferson returned, he carried a small locked box in his hands.

"This will be for you," he said, placing it on a battered coffee table before slumping on the couch. He didn't seem concerned that neither of them had chosen to sit.

"What is it?" Booth asked. He'd stepped subtly in front of Brennan and behind him, she rolled her eyes. Did he seriously think there was something threatening in that locked box?

Mr. Jefferson shrugged. "Don't know. The key is taped to the top, but I've never opened it. My son gave it to me."

Booth took advantage of the opening. "Where is your son? We would also like to talk to him."

"So would I," the older man answered. His shoulders slumped and his hands rubbed over his face. "I would love to talk to my son."

Glancing at Brennan, Booth feared the answer to the next question. "Has your son left the country?"

Eyes remaining down, he shook his head. "My son died about a year ago." Skin gone pale with grief, he picked his head up. "My wife not long after that. I don't have anything left. And I won't be able to answer most of your questions. But I'll tell you what I can."

Standing suddenly, making the partners step back away from him, he moved to pace behind the couch. "But I have a feeling his death was the end of something in more ways than one," he said to himself. The words were mumbled and Booth barely caught them. Twisting his hands together, he continued moving before stopping and resting both hands on the back of the furniture between them. "I don't know why you are here."

"Then why didn't you act surprised to see us?" Booth asked. So far, Brennan had remained silent, but Booth knew she missed nothing. Was she seeing anything he wasn't?

"Two years ago," Mr. Jefferson said, not directly answering the question, "my son came home and informed me that he was leaving town. Off to California or some other crazy place." He waved his hand in the air in the vague direction he thought the state might be. "I don't know where he thought he was going to get money to do something like that. He didn't have any saved up and his mother and I sure weren't giving him any."

Eyes meeting, Brennan nodded at Booth. Their victim's mother had indicated something similar.

"Twelve hours later, he was back again. And something was wrong with him. Very wrong. Wouldn't tell me what it was." Looking up at them, his eyes begged them to understand. "I tried to get him to tell me. But his mother was already sick and I couldn't focus on both of them. But something was wrong," he repeated to emphasize the point. "And it didn't get any better."

"He left town?" Booth asked.

"For awhile. Then he came back. But his mother and I were already packing up to move." Now that he had someone to tell the story to, someone who might tell him what had happened to his son, it appeared he couldn't get it out fast enough. "She was chasing all these crazy cures that I knew had no hope of working. Fanciful ideas that took us to isolated places around the country."

"Then why did you go?" Brennan asked. Miracle cures rarely worked and were just a way to take advantage of the sick and dying. "If you knew what the result would be?"

Thinking of his deceased wife, the lines in his face smoothed out. "Because I loved her," he said simply. "It made her happy and I loved her. I'd do anything to see her smile, especially when she was sick."

He glanced around the room, taking in the blank walls and empty surfaces. "I should get her pictures out," he said absently. "But sometimes, it's so hard to see what I can't have anymore."

Reaching out, Brennan brushed her knuckles against Booth's hand. The sadness in the room was palpable and she just needed to feel his warm skin against hers.

He glanced toward her, and while he couldn't smile, the look in his eyes was enough to settle her.

"Todd started drinking. And never stopped. Couldn't hold a job. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for days. It was hard to pay for a place for both of us, but I wanted to give him a chance to fix whatever was wrong." He shook his head at the futility of it all. "About a year ago he wrapped his car around a tree. Not long after, his mother died. I think his death might have hurried hers along."

"We didn't find any records of his death," Booth pointed out.

Todd's father pressed his lips so tightly together they turned white. "Something was wrong. He'd done something terrible, I just knew it. I paid off the funeral director to file the death certificate under a different name. But it was my son." He choked back a sob at the memory.

Booth couldn't see any reason for the man to be lying. His grief felt real. "What about this locked box?" Booth asked.

As if he'd forgotten they were there, Mr. Jefferson started at the sound of Booth's voice. "Todd gave it to me not long after we moved the first time. With strict instructions. I was never to open it. But if the cops ever came asking about him, I was supposed to give it to them."

Eyes focusing on the locked container, Mr. Jefferson came around the couch. Picking it up, he held it out toward Booth. "It's been a kind of burden, wondering what was locked in here. Were the answers to what happened to change my son so much in this box? And if they were, did I really want them?" When Booth reached out to take it, he pulled it back toward his chest. "I know that you could tell me about why you are here. And maybe I should ask. But I'm afraid to know the truth. Does that make me a coward?"

Arms wrapped around it, he looked between the two of them

imploringly. A tear slipped from his eye and splashed on his sleeve. "I loved my boy. I will always love him. What if what you tell me changes that? Changes who I thought he was? I've lost so much already. If it's bad, I'll feel like I'm losing him all over again."


	27. Chapter 27

"Do you think I did the right thing?" Booth asked. "Not telling him exactly why we were there? Usually I tell people why we are asking about their families, but this time, it didn't seem like the best choice."

It was an unusual feeling, being unsure about an interrogation he'd just conducted. But the father had never directly asked and Booth knew he didn't really want to know.

The box was waiting in the back of the SUV. Though they hadn't spoken of it, both of them agreed that they needed to wait to open it until they returned to the Lab. If there really were answers inside, there was someone who needed them more than they did.

"He already knew his son had done something terrible, Booth. Why hide his death otherwise? He knows the truth and he's terrified of it."

They sat in the diner Brennan had spotted on the way into town. A short break for food and then back toward the airport. They'd have the night in the hotel before flying out early the next day.

Wishing for a night with no nightmares that would allow him to enjoy precious alone time with Bones, Booth looked over the menu. "Do you think the answers are in that box?" he asked after the waitress had taken their order. "That after getting lost in the woods and being haunted by a spirit that is a combination of nice and malevolent, all the answers are in a locked box?"

Pleased to have found something on the menu that appealed to her, Brennan thought about it. "I think they are. They have to be. Because if they aren't, we are out of options." She paused before continuing. "Are you going to have the son exhumed?"

"To check his identity?" When Brennan nodded, Booth shook his head. "Not unless I have to. I've seen a lot of grieving families over the years, Bones, and if he was faking, he did it perfectly. Unless someone insists on it, the son is staying right where he is."

His words sounded sure, but Brennan could see doubt in his eyes. She wondered if something would eventually force him to reconsider the issue.

Booth played with his fork. "I offered to send the final report to the dad. Sealed envelope. Then if he wants to know why his son changed so much, he could open it. But if he didn't, he could leave it sealed. At least then he would have the option."

"His son killed our victim," Brennan declared. It was unusual for her to come to a conclusion like that without concrete evidence and Booth just looked at her. "It's not a guess when all the facts support the conclusion," she argued, coloring slightly. "Whether it was an accident or murder is what we don't know."

Leaning back so the waitress could do her job, Brennan reached for her silverware. "We still have some unanswered questions. Why were the sneakers brought back? How did the couple know about the cabin in the woods?"

"Angela's working on connecting the father to the original owner," he said between bites. "I sent her a text. Maybe they were friends or lived near each other. Hell, I don't know, maybe they used to hunt together. Maybe one of them heard about it from a friend of a friend of a friend."

"That's a lot of friends," she interrupted, hoping to stop him from offering more suggestions. Knowing the possibilities were endless, Booth might have kept going for some time.

Snorting in amusement, Booth choked on his drink. Trying not to laugh, Brennan continued to eat serenely while he tried to get his breathing under control.

"You did that on purpose," he accused when he was sure his lungs were going to stay where they belonged.

"Making you choke on purpose could be dangerous," she said, her eyes dancing in amusement. Before they turned serious. "I would never put you in danger."

In the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, Booth pulled it away from his mouth. "Wasn't accusing you of doing so," he said, keeping his voice level. He wondered if her comment was just a reaction to their current case and what he was dealing with, or if he'd accidentally pushed against a different memory.

He'd put her in danger lots of times, though he guessed she would disagree. More than she'd ever done to him. But that wasn't what she'd said and Bones didn't imply. She said exactly what she was thinking.

But the next time she blinked, her eyes went back to dancing and the moment passed. Unsure of what had just happened, he finished his meal and pushed the plate away.

"They have pie," she said, motioning with her fork toward the cooler where it was displayed.

"I already had what you would consider junk food for lunch and now you want me to eat pie?" He motioned to the waitress and ordered a piece before he continued. "I know this case has shaken me a little, Bones, but I need you to go back to normal now."

The line appeared between her brows and Booth fought the urge to smooth it out with his thumb. "Normal?" she repeated. Her voice had gone cool but her eyes were blue fire.

Recognizing danger, Booth gaze her a lazy smile. Lord, it shouldn't turn him on when she looked at him like that, but that reaction often preceded a passionate response to what he was going to say next.

And they did have a hotel room all to themselves tonight. What better place to enjoy what he was stoking.

"Yes, normal," he said, stabbing the pie that had been delivered. "You are talking to ghosts and encouraging me to eat junk food. Maybe you are possessed."

The flames in her eyes burned brighter. "Possessed?" she said slowly. Booth barely managed not to groan when she licked her bottom lip.

But she was wise to Booth's antics. Knowing teasing when she heard it, Booth wasn't the only one who remembered they had a hotel room to enjoy that night.

She also wasn't afraid to play with fire. The only difference was, she dared to stand a little closer to these flames. Making him a little uncomfortable might be a fun distraction from the case.

Looking at the face she loved so much, Brennan changed her mind. Might was the wrong word. This would definitely be fun.

For both of them.

"Perhaps, I am," she agreed. Reaching up she slid the top button of her blouse free. "Who knows how I might act if I am." It revealed absolutely nothing, but Booth stared at the line of her neck, realizing he'd made a serious tactical error.

Bones was much less self-conscious about sex than he was. Her flirtation had improved over the years, but she didn't need words to entice him. She undone one button and he was already lost. Best to not let her get carried away.

When she stabbed a bite of the pie she didn't even like with her fork and wrapped her lips around it, he knew he was going to lose the battle he'd started. Probably better to admit that now before this went any further.

"Bones," he choked out when she moaned softly while chewing. No longer sure if he was warning or begging her, Booth took a deep breath. But he caught a whiff of her perfume and it did nothing to calm him. "You win," he said without preamble. "I shouldn't have started this game several hours from the hotel. Please, just stop." Well, that answered that question. He was definitely begging.

"That easy, huh?" Relieved, she placed the fork back on the table. She disliked fruit pie. "Should we pay the bill and head back to the hotel?"

Booth couldn't get his wallet out fast enough.


	28. Chapter 28

Thirty minutes later, traveling down the same empty highway that had brought them to that run down apartment, Booth reached over to take her hand.

The air in the car was electric and Booth was surprised he didn't see sparks when their skin touched. What had seemed like such a good idea in the restaurant, flirting with Brennan to make their evening alone something to look forward to, was making this drive seem even longer than it already was.

"What you thinking about, Bones?" His voice was deeper than normal and he saw her shiver slightly at the sound.

She turned and gave him a look that made the air in the car that much hotter. "We still have," she said, flicking her eyes to the GPS and then back to him, "two hours to our destination. Do you really want me to tell you exactly what I'm thinking?"

Several images appeared in front of his eyes. None of which he should be thinking about while he was driving. "No...yes...maybe," he said hesitantly. "Let's just say that I really, really want to hear it, but I'm just not sure now is such a good time."

Chuckling at his discomfort, Brennan gave the hand she held a squeeze. "Remember when I gave you a preview of my latest novel?" she asked. "It was only a couple of weeks ago."

_Oh, Lord, she wouldn't._ "I remember," he said. His voice was choked now. "There were some interesting passages in that novel."

"Yes," she hummed in agreement. "Very interesting. Since you asked, I was thinking about the third section I had you read. I'm sure you remember that one quite clearly. If I recall, you were blushing as you read it. I was wondering if you might be interested in acting out that scenario. It would allow me to make any edits to the manuscript before I sent it to my editor."

Dropping his hand, she trailed a single finger up and down the center of his palm.

"You are just evil, Bones," he grumbled. Pulling away, he rubbed the palm on his knee. The sensation had been both ticklish and erotic and he could still feel the tingling seconds later. Taking a deep breath, he named as many saints as he could think of and the starting lineup of the Phillies team before he felt calm enough to take her hand again.

"I know," she said happily. Settling back in her seat, she leaned back and closed her eyes. "I'm going to take a nap. I think I will need all my energy for later."

Shaking his head at her antics, Booth spent the next several hours contemplating their time at the hotel and wishing he had a siren on their rental vehicle to get them their faster.

OOOOOOO

After an extremely enjoyable evening in the hotel, and a morning spent waiting for their twice delayed flight to take off, Booth and Brennan finally arrived back in DC.

Now, back at the Jeffersonian, they sat in the lounge area above the platform. Angela had made coffee and they all ignored the locked box resting on the table between them.

Booth had asked the local cops to keep an eye on Todd Jefferson's father, but he didn't expect him to leave town. With the package he'd protected safely delivered according to the directions his son gave him, Booth didn't think he had anything left to run from.

Unless it was the truth about his son. But Booth was sure he'd wait around long enough to get the final report. What he chose to do after that wasn't something Booth was going to worry about. He already knew what was going to be written in it. Todd had killed Michelle and it was more than likely murder. And hopefully, the answers would be in the box they had yet to open.

Booth was working hard at not shifting his eyes to the area just behind Hodgins. He could see her standing there, staring at the group, It was similar to the way she'd stared at him the first night, her face blank. Could ghosts express any sort of emotion? Or was she also preparing herself for whatever was revealed when the box was finally unlocked.

Sitting next to him on the couch, Brennan bumped him with her shoulder. She raised one eyebrow in silent question, knowing he would understand. Eyes drifting toward Hodgins and back to her again, he gave a sharp nod. Yes, she was there. Yes, she was waiting.

Booth was thankful she was behaving herself for a change.

After the four of them caught up in the way that long time friends who'd experienced a lot together often do, they fell silent. Eventually each pair of eyes rested on the box.

"What are we waiting for?" Angela asked curiously. She looked over at Hodgins and then back to Booth and Brennan. "Do you think there is something dangerous in there or something?"

Brennan was the first to respond. "I worry there are no answers waiting to be found there. Only more questions."

"Well," Angela said. Her voice was smug as she glanced around at her friends. "Perhaps I can answer a couple of questions before we get to that."

Booth paused with his cup of coffee at his lips. "You found something out about the property," he said before taking a sip. Barely hiding the grimace, he put the cup on the table next to their mysterious package. What had Angela used to make this stuff? It was worse than what was in the break room at the Hoover and he didn't think that was possible.

"I did," Angela confirmed. Reaching down into the bag by her chair, she pulled out a folder. "I started with the man with dementia who you identified as the property owner. He's owned that piece of land for almost seventy years. Inherited it from his father before him. It's been in the family a long time."

"He has no family left that I could find," Booth said. Despite telling himself he shouldn't, Booth looked over again to see if she was still standing there.

She was, though a little fainter than before.

"He doesn't," Angela agreed. "I did manage to find an old neighbor and spoke to him. The land upon his death with go to the government and probably be merged with the federal land already there."

"What does that have to do with Todd Jefferson?" Brennan asked.

"Nothing. Just an interesting tidbit. Our elderly owner, Jeb Adonsen, lived quite the life. Most notably, he served in the military during World War II."

"Todd Jefferson's father is too young for that," Booth said, picturing the man in his head. "They wouldn't have served together."

"No, they didn't. But his deceased grandfather did." Opening the folder, Angela pulled out a copy of an old picture. Two men in uniform stood with their arms thrown around each other, looking toward the camera and laughing.

"The one on the left is Jeb," Angela said, passing the picture around. "And the other is Todd Jefferson's grandfather."

"So," Hodgins said, "we can assume that at some point the family talked about or visited the cabin. Maybe before Todd's grandfather died. Then Jeb got sick along with Todd's mother and the visits stopped. But they knew it was there."

Booth couldn't be sure, but he thought the ghost might have nodded slowly. But she maintained that eerie stare as she looked in their direction.

"If he built it after the war," Booth said, "I'm sure no one noticed. Building codes and regulations were quite different back then. And it remained isolated for all these years."

"Todd and Michelle needed a place to go. For whatever it was they had planned. And he took them to that abandoned cabin in the woods." Brennan looked around at the group. "That sounds like quite the adventure. Alone in the middle of the forest. Hiking to a cabin with no amenities."

"No parents around, young kids, privacy," Booth said unnecessarily. The team had already put those pieces together. He watched Brennan's cheeks color slightly and knew she was recalling their own evening of privacy in the hotel. There were plenty of edits she could make to her manuscript now. "A good place to enjoy each other and make plans."

"I like how you managed that explanation without using the word sex," Angela teased. "Because you know that's what they went out there for." She toasted him with her mug and took a drink before humming in contentment. "This coffee is the best."

Realizing he was the only one who wasn't drinking it, Booth shook his head. Apparently you had to be a squint to enjoy the stuff.

"She wasn't wearing her clothes when she was shot," Hodgins said. "And I couldn't find any evidence of gunshot residue on them. So where you found them in the corner is probably where they've been since she removed them."

If it had just been him alone with the ghost still standing behind Hodgins, Booth might have thanked her for putting her clothes back on before appearing to him.

Fully clothed spectral images were enough. Seeing one naked would have been too much.

"That's all I have," Angela said. "The rest is up to you. We need to open that box if we have any hope of finding out the rest."

Looking around at the group, he realized they were all looking at him expectantly. Accepting the responsibility, he reached out and pulled the key free. "I'll open it," he said, "but anything inside will need to be removed by someone wearing gloves. And I'm not putting those things on. I can never get the smell off my hands."

Brennan patted his shoulder with fake sympathy. "I'll take care of it. Just open it up."

"Here goes nothing," he said. Inserting the key, he turned it slowly. The lid opened easily and Booth bent over the top, peering inside.


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Can you believe there are only two more chapters after this one? The month of October has gone so fast. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed this month. I hope the final chapters live up to your expectations._

"All yours," he said, motioning to Brennan. He'd seen enough just from that quick glance. Sitting forward next to him, she reached one gloved hand inside.

The first item was a gun in a plastic bag. Holding it up for everyone to see, she placed it carefully on the table.

"Murder weapon," Booth said. His voice was hard with disgust. Brennan looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged. "You know that I'm correct, Bones."

"We can test it," Hodgins said, laughing at the way the two of them were looking at each other. It was reassuring to know that as much things changed, they tended to stay the same.

He did suspect that Booth was correct. But there was no way he was going to admit to that where Dr. B. could hear him.

"The gun doesn't really answer any questions," Angela said. "I hope there is something else in there."

"Answers who killed her," Booth interjected.

Brennan ignored him. "There is," she reassured them as a light flickered overhead. Everyone but Booth looked up. He looked behind Hodgins and narrowed his eyes in warning.

The expression on her face didn't change and she did nothing to acknowledge the look but Booth didn't care. He was done.

Brennan pulled out an envelope. It was thin and faded with age. "Maybe this will tell us what we want to know," she said. Turning it toward the group, she allowed them to read the front of it.

"To the cops," Booth said. "I guess Todd wrote us a note."

"Open it up," Angela demanded. There was no attempt to hide her eagerness. "There has to be answers in there."

Sliding a slim finger under the flap, Brennan opened it gently. Inside was a sheet of paper filled with tiny neat handwriting. Unfolding it, she tipped it toward Booth. "You read it."

Unsure of why she wanted him to do it, Booth leaned into her shoulder to better see it. "It is addressed to whatever cops are reading it," he said. "And then continues from there." Shifting again. Booth started to read aloud.

"If you're reading this, it means you found Michelle's body. And that you found my father. Go easy on him because he doesn't know anything about this. And he's worried enough about my mom."

"Worried about his mom but not the dead girl he left behind," Angela interrupted coolly.

Eyes still on the document, Booth continued as if Angela hadn't spoken. "Michelle and I were dating. She wanted to run away with me, to California or some other state on the West Coast. Where the sun was always shining. It sounded like a great plan to me. Except, where was I supposed to get money so we could do something like that? My parents didn't have any and her mother wouldn't give us any." Booth looked up at them, having already read the next line. "So I bought a gun from some guy I knew."

Hodgins snorted. "I suppose we could trace the gun if we really try."

Booth nodded. "We'll try. Because he isn't done with his confession."

"He hasn't confessed to anything yet," Brennan argued.

"He's going to," Booth said confidently. "And it's going to be for more than just murder. Or more than just Michelle's murder."

She considered making a comment about listening to his gut but kept it to herself. His instincts were correct often enough that it was wise to wait and see what happened.

Flicking his eyes over, he noted that she still stood there. Listening, Booth assumed, to her killer confess to what he had done. But she'd have to cross to the other side to find the justice she sought. Because Todd Jefferson's death made it impossible for Booth to deliver it here.

"I used the gun," Booth continued to read, "to rob a gas station outside of the city. The owner tried to fight back, so I shot him. I don't know if he died or not. But I panicked and ran to Michelle's house. She was waiting for me with a suitcase and an excited look on her face. But I realized I couldn't take her with me. She didn't deserve the life I was going to have to lead now."

"He was worried about taking her with him so he killed her for it?"

Brennan asked, having trouble following his logic. "That is one of the least rational things I have ever heard."

"Shhhh," Angela hissed. "I want to listen to this."

"He's feels bad for himself," Booth snapped. "Not for the clerk he shot and maybe killed. He doesn't go turn himself in. Doesn't stay around to try and help the guy. Just runs and picks up the girl he is going to claim he loved. A girl he's eventually going to kill."

Brennan put a comforting hand on his arm. "We'll know what happened and with our help, you can solve the case with the clerk. It's going to have to be enough."

Hissing out a sigh, Booth nodded. "Flip the paper over, Bones."

She did as he asked, noting this side was also filled with handwriting. "Guess he has a lot he wants to tell us."

"I took Michelle to the cabin my grandfather used to visit when we were kids," Booth read, confirming Angela's research. Hodgins gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up and she smiled. "And we spent a nice afternoon together. It was going to be our last."

"A nice afternoon having sex," Angela surmised. "Which explains why all her clothes were in the corner."

Booth took the chance to read ahead and was already shaking his head when he continued. "Then I told her I was going to have to leave her behind. She was so angry and demanded to know why. So I told her about the robbery."

"Something tells me that didn't go as he planned," Brennan said dryly.

There was a bang off to their left and several of them jumped. Eye contact was shared between them and Angela finally asked, "Is this place haunted?"

Booth's entire body went rigid and Brennan felt it. Her hand remained on his arm and she tightened her grip. "There are no such things as ghosts," she said, using the scientific tone that no one dared argue with. Also knowing that a statement like that might cause more problems.

But, much to Booth and Brennan's surprise, nothing else happened.

"All the same, I might call Avalon next week," Angela said.

"You can do that," Brennan agreed, "but if you do, I'm going on vacation. I can't deal with that woman in my Lab." And Booth would do everything is his power not to see that woman. So she'd do everything in her power to make sure he wouldn't have to.

"We won't call her, " Hodgins said immediately, not wanting to get caught in an argument between the two women. Or between Angela and Booth. "We'll start with maintenance and see how that goes."

"Fine, honey, "Angela said, patting his leg. "I know what you guys think. But if things keep happening around here, I'm going to give it serious consideration." She waved her hand at Booth. "Continue."

"Michelle demanded I turn myself in. But I wasn't going to do that. She just got louder and louder and she wouldn't stop yelling. I pushed her on the bed and pulled out the gun. I don't remember what happened next. I must have shot her because the next thing I remember is her dead in the middle of that bed." Booth pushed back from Brennan. "I don't need to read anymore. Told you he killed her."

"The I don't remember defense is always my favorite," Hodgins said coldly. "It was an accident," he continued in a mocking voice, "It wasn't my fault."

"She wanted to do the right thing," Brennan said softly. "That will be something you can tell her mom." Taking over from Booth, she finished what he'd started. "I didn't know what to do, but I felt bad for her mom. They had this weird thing, always fighting over where Michelle left her shoes. Except it wasn't really fighting. Michelle told me sometimes she did it on purpose just to rile up her mom. And she was pretty sure her mom knew it. So I took the shoes and left them for her mom to find one more time. It was the best I could do."

"Yeah," Booth said, standing suddenly. "The best he could do. Could have started with not shooting anyone." His eyes looked behind Hodgins to see her still standing there. But Booth was sure the expression on her face had changed. He thought he saw peace there, but wondered if he was just projecting it on her to make himself feel better. "I'm sure that will make her mom feel a whole lot better, knowing her daughter died at the hands of her punk ass boyfriend." Moving away from the group, he stomped down the stairs toward the main part of the Lab.

Putting down the letter and taking off her gloves, Brennan sent her friends a look of apology. "Can you log this stuff in, Hodgins? And start the paperwork on releasing her remains. I'm going to go talk to Booth."

"She knows you're the boss," Angela said to Hodgins, knowing what was going to come out of his mouth as soon as he opened it. The two of them remained silent until Brennan's footsteps faded. "Let's get this cleaned up so we can go home," Angela said.

Hodgins shook his head. "I think you're wrong, Angie," he muttered, his eyes still focused on the stairs Brennan had just hurried down. "I really think you're wrong."


	30. Chapter 30

She found him in her office. Leaning against the door frame, Brennan watched him stalk around the room several times. Unsure whether or not to disturb him she waited in silence. After his third lap, he noticed her standing there and motioned for her to come in. Closing the door behind her, she stood with her back pressed against it, trying to stay out of his way until he was ready to talk about it.

He looked toward her again, but didn't stop moving. He did raise one eyebrow when she hit the button that closed the shades over her windows.

The skin around his eyes was pinched, an indication that he was tired. They had their answers, but Brennan feared it wouldn't be enough. What would they do if the victim haunting them refused to disappear?

"It's late," she explained, answering his unasked question about closing the blinds. "And when the cleaners see the shades down after hours, they know that I'm here and don't want to be disturbed. We had to come up with a plan after they interrupted me several times and I didn't respond as pleasantly as I should have."

That finally stopped his continuous movement. "You didn't tell me that."

She shrugged. "It didn't reflect very positively on me, and I do try to do better with learning names and that sort of thing. So I found something that worked. What's wrong, Booth?"

He didn't hesitate with his answer. "Just mad at the stupidity of the whole thing. How about getting a job if you need money to go to California? Instead he decided shooting two people is the solution. And he killed one of them. An innocent girl who just wanted to start a new life somewhere." Slumping down on her couch, he smoothed down his tie. "It was just senseless."

"A lot of our cases are," she pointed out. Coming toward him, she joined him on the couch. Tipping her head, Brennan thought about everything they'd worked on over the years. "In fact, most of them are."

"I know," he said. "But I don't usually have the ghost of the victim staring at me while I read a letter admitting to that senselessness. And what justice can I give her? And I don't understand the point of it all."

"The point?" Brennan asked.

"She knew what happened to her. She didn't need any explanation of who killed her or why. So what was the point of appearing to me? Of the theatrics of it all?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and said the next so quietly that she almost didn't hear it. "Did she know what this was going to do to me?"

Pressing her lips together, Brennan considered her answer carefully. "Maybe it wasn't about Michelle. At least not really."

Booth met her eyes and let himself get lost there for a moment. "Then who was it about?"

"Her mother. It was about getting answers for her mother, Booth. You're right. Michelle knew what happened. Or at least enough of it to understand. Sometimes you don't remember everything around a traumatic event, but she probably knew enough. But her mother didn't. And Michelle couldn't tell her. It appears she can't go very far from her skeleton. The telling part was up to us. That was the point. She wants to go home, Booth. And we were the people who could get her there. And give her mother the answers she's going to want."

Still staring into her eyes, Booth saw something flicker there. "Do you remember?" he asked.

Brennan tilted her head, finally breaking eye contact, but she didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "I'm assuming you're asking about when I was shot?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Probably not as much as you think I do. But that is not a discussion for now." Her voice made it very clear he shouldn't ask anymore questions about it. "As for Michelle knowing what it was going to do to you?" She shrugged. "We probably won't ever know. But if she insisted that Todd turn himself in and he shot her for her reaction, I'm going to say no. That makes her seem like a person who wouldn't hurt someone on purpose."

Staring off into the distance, Booth was silent for a long time. If Bones thought he was going to drop his question about her injury, she should know better. But he would put it aside for now.

He wanted her to be right about the ghost. That none of what had happened had been done purposely to remind him of a past he tried not to think about too often. But he feared that no matter the intent, this case was going to take longer for him to put away. "I was wrong before," he said into the silence.

"About what?" Brennan asked, unsure of what he was referring to. She'd been waiting patiently for him to work through whatever was running through his brain.

"About exhuming the body. I have to know for sure. It will bother me if I don't. Will you do it? The identification? Then I'll know for sure. I trust you. I'll trust whatever you tell me." A hand came up to rub his cheek. "And I'll probably have to report whoever filed the false death certificate. God," he muttered, "what a mess."

"Of course, I'll identify the body. But you knew that. It will be good to know for sure. The rest you can dump on Caroline. Let her deal with the people that need to be notified, the charges that will need to be filed. Those decisions aren't ours to make, so we aren't going to make them."

Reaching out, he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and pulled her toward him for a kiss. A kiss that he let go a little past where he normally stopped, knowing that they were hidden well.

When he pulled back, his forehead came to rest against hers. "I think about everyone involved in this case and what it cost. Even us. I think about what you said, about how everyone is haunted by something. You think all that stuff is in the past, and it's always waiting there to come back and find you." He'd never thought of memories as living, breathing entities, but this case had made him look at a lot of things a little differently.

Memories, he acknowledged, had teeth and claws that could dig in and not let go. He could cage them, lock them behind solid doors that seemed impenetrable, but there was always a weak spot that would allow them to escape when he least expected it.

It this ever happened again, and hopefully it wouldn't, he'd be better prepared. And he'd have Bones. It would be enough. It was this time. And that was something he was more than willing to hold on to.

Pulling back from him, Brennan curled herself into his side. "We do carry more than some. Not as much as others. We are who we are because of what we've been through. And in spite of it. But I like who we are, Booth. Both together and individually. So it's been worth it."

Arm coming down around her, Booth pulled her tightly against him. "I'll have to go see the mother tomorrow," he said. Brennan was already aware of that, but just let him talk it out. "Tell her that her daughter died because she wanted to do the right thing. And about the sneakers." He shook his head. "I voiced that theory to Aubrey, that the shoes on the porch were some sort of sick apology. I didn't want to be correct. Can you imagine? Sneaking back to put a damn pair of shoes on a porch."

WIth a final hug, Brennan pulled away from him and crossed her office. "Hodgins is filling out the paperwork to release her back to her mother. So when you go tomorrow, you can tell the mom she can bring her daughter home. And that should hopefully make your ghost happy too."

"There's the report we'll need to send Todd's father, as well." Booth tilted his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. The only light on in Brennan's office was the one at her desk and the room was bathed in a soft glow. "He'll find out the truth if Caroline decides to charge him for the fake death certificate. I fear it might kill him." He didn't want to feel the weight of another death on his conscience. Even if it wasn't his fault.

"It may," Brennan agreed, brutally honest as always. "But he knew it was something terrible, Booth. That doesn't fall on us." She looked up from her desk toward him. "And I think he knew he would pay for it someday. But he wanted to help his son because he loved him. And while I don't approve of what he did, I do understand why he did it. Faking a certificate really doesn't hurt anyone. And if we hadn't shown up at that apartment, no one would have ever known."

"Yeah," Booth said. Shaking his head he thought of his own children and of the woman watching him. He understood why Todd's father had done it. There wasn't much he wouldn't do, much he hadn't done, to protect the people he loved.

"Do you think she's gone?" Brennan asked. "And what are we going to do about Angela?"

Booth's head came up so fast, she was surprised he didn't hurt himself. "If she calls Avalon," he threatened.

"We really will go on vacation," Brennan finished for him with a small smile. "But I think as long as we're careful, Hodgins will blame everything on maintenance and Angela will go along with it. As long as nothing else happens."

"It just seems wrong that she would go that easily. After everything that she did before we read that letter. It would have been nice to get a thank you or something." Booth's voice was just short of grumpy.

Brennan shook her head. They'd been doing everything in their power to make that ghost disappear and now he wanted her to come back and thank them. "Take a nap on the couch, Booth. You'll feel better after that. Let me get this done for Hodgins. Then Michelle can go home and so can we. And hopefully have a peaceful evening together."

Knowing she was trying to placate him didn't prevent him from sliding down and stretching out. "No more than an hour," he decreed, closing his eyes. "And you'll wake me if you leave the office. I don't want to wake up and find you gone."

With his eyes closed, he couldn't see hers roll. "I'll be here," she promised, going back to the forms. The next two sections were tedious and would take up most of the hour she'd agreed to.

There were times Booth couldn't fall asleep no matter how tired he was. This wasn't one of those times. In less than five minutes, his rhythmic breathing and the clicking of her keyboard were the only sounds in the office.

She wasn't sure what made her stop typing and look up. Always attuned to Booth, she eventually tried to persuade herself that his breathing had changed or he'd moved slightly in his sleep.

Whatever it was, she paused and looked toward him. At first, her eyes focused on him. He rested on his back, his head propped against the arm of the couch.

Then her eyes shifted upward. Behind him, stood the figure of a woman. Her eyes looked down at Booth and one hand was reaching down to brush at his hair.

Alarmed, Brennan jumped to her feet. No one should have been able to enter her office without her hearing them.

Opening her mouth to demand identification, the sound died in her throat. The couch was clearly visible through the hand reaching toward Booth.

Making observations as fast as her mind could register them, Brennan noted the hair and the clothes. Knowing what she was seeing didn't make it any easier for her to accept it. And she could think of a thousand explanations for what was happening, none of them supernatural.

But all of that didn't stop her from closing her gaping mouth and swallowing hard. "Michelle?" she whispered softly.


	31. Chapter 31

The...ghost...hallucination...dream...straightened and looked at Brennan. Booth had mentioned that he'd never really been able to interact with the ghost and Brennan wasn't sure what it meant that she appeared to be doing so now.

Closing her eyes hard, Brennan counted to ten before opening them again. The scene in front of her hadn't changed. Accepting it took a moment longer.

Never one to scare easily, Brennan squared her shoulders and stared at the ghost. In the back of her mind, she considered the idea that she'd fallen asleep at her desk and was dreaming the whole thing.

Dream. Hallucination. Haunting. In the end, she supposed it didn't matter how you described it. What mattered was that it was apparently going to be up to her to make sure it ended.

Because it was going to end. Here. Now. Booth wasn't going to be forced to deal with this another second. Brennan was done watching her husband struggle with things he shouldn't be worrying about. He'd done his best, given this victim everything he had to give and then some. If Michelle didn't understand that, Brennan was going to make sure she did now.

The idea that she'd accepted that this was a ghost and not some sort of dream didn't slow her down. This was for Booth. It always came back to Booth.

What should Brennan say? That it was time to move on? That was what Booth's religion said. And what Avalon had said on the few occasions she'd been allowed to visit the Lab. Or refused to leave even after being told to.

She considered and discarded ideas almost as fast as she thought of them. Eventually Booth would wake up. She only had a limited amount of time to end this.

"You have to go," Brennan finally said hesitantly. Between them on the couch, Booth stirred but didn't wake. Not remembering the last time she been so desperate for Booth's guidance, Brennan didn't know what to do. If she woke Booth, would Michelle disappear. And how would they know she was really gone?

"Todd killed you," Brennan said. She shivered slightly when Michelle appeared to nod. "But he's dead too. We can't do anything else for you here." At least, they thought he was. They'd find out for sure. But Brennan didn't want Michelle around bothering Booth until they did.

Considering her options, Brennan decided on the tactic she needed to take. Put Booth first, just as she had the entire case, and her own beliefs aside. Protect him and the rest would fall into place.

The loose hands at her sides curled into fists, prepared to physically fight an entity that was no more substantial than fog. But if that's what it took to save Booth from whatever this was, she was prepared to do it.

"You have to leave him alone," Brennan said, tilting her head towards Booth. He remained peacefully sleeping on the couch, just as she had in the SUV when Michelle had first appeared to Booth. Brennan could barely roll over in bed without him waking up. What happened to the laws of physics when Michelle appeared? "We've solved your crime and this is over. You can go home now. And your mom will know the truth. We'll make sure of it," she promised.

The air around her felt heavy. As if something was expanding in the room and pushing against her skin. But Brennan, not afraid of a spectral image, stood her ground.

She'd faced down serial killers and a whole lot of other things during the time she'd worked with Booth. A ghost she didn't even believe in was nothing.

"You will leave," Brennan said, no longer making it a request. "Your remains are going back to your mother. There is nothing left for you to do. The mystery has been solved and you are going to rest in peace. Now leave us in peace as well. You can't do this to him anymore. I won't let you."

It was an empty threat. Brennan had no idea how to fight something like this. But her voice made it clear she would find a way.

The pressure inside the room expanded until it disappeared with a pop. Behind Booth, Michelle nodded. With a smile Brennan thought seemed grateful and a small wave Michelle disappeared as well, the light on Brennan's desk going out as she left.

The room plunged into darkness, Brennan stepped carefully around obstacles until she safely made it to the wall switch. Flipping on the overhead lights, she turned to see Booth sitting up and blinking in confusion.

The air felt different, clean somehow and he wondered what had happened while he slept. He'd had strange dreams that he couldn't quite remember. But he'd been sure Bones had been there. Her voice, the words unclear, echoed in his mind. Eyes moving around the room, he couldn't see Brennan and thought she'd actually broken her promise. It wasn't until he turned that he found her standing near the light switch behind him.

The look on her face had him rising quickly. "What's wrong, Bones?"

She shook her head, unsure of what to say to him. There was no doubt that she'd tell him all of it, but needed time to organize it in her own mind. "Just give me a second," she said. "But I'm fine," she added quickly reading the concern in his eyes.

"You're...something," Booth said not believing her. "And no one who ever says the word fine is actually fine." There was something in her eyes he didn't recognize. "Just tell me." His words were harsh, but the voice that said them the opposite.

When she took a deep breath, Booth thought she was going to ignore him. Until she started to talk. And the story she told wasn't anything he'd been prepared to hear. She told him all of it. In all scientific tones with no emotion, she described what she'd seen and said.

"Maybe I fell asleep at my desk," Brennan said at the end. At some point during the story, Booth had approached her and pulled her back to the couch. Now they sat, facing each other and holding hands.

He hummed and Brennan knew he disagreed, but didn't want to say the words. "I suppose what's more important is that she's gone. Since that first moment in the woods, I've felt like I was carrying something. And that feeling is gone. She's gone," he breathed out. Relief had a smile breaking out on his face.

His smile made her do so. Reaching out, she brushed at his hair. "She was going to try and touch you," Brennan said. "I wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn't touching you. Not anymore."

Trapping her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. "Willing to fight a ghost for me, Bones?" he teased. But his eyes were serious.

"For you, Booth," she answered, her eyes matching his, "I'll apparently fight both the real and the impossible."

Brennan knew she'd never be able to explain what happened, at least not so she was satisfied. It would forever remain a mystery, at least in her own mind.

But for Booth the whole thing was perfectly clear. As far as he was concerned, in order to protect him, she'd fought a ghost and won.

Reaching toward her, he brushed his knuckles down her cheek. "For a few minutes, no a few days," he corrected, "you've put aside everything you believe in to stand at my side. I don't have the words to tell you what that has meant to me. Thank you."

When his hand moved to cup her face, she leaned into it. "I told you that's where I'd always stand, and I meant it." She turned her face to kiss his palm and when she turned back, there was a different look in her eyes. "How do you feel after your nap?"

"Good," he said slowly. Booth was sure he recognized the look in her eyes, but was equally as sure that he must be wrong.

Standing, she went back to the switch and dimmed the lights in the office. Turning back to him, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall from her shoulders. "At least I won't have to worry about something spying on us."

He swallowed hard. "What are you doing, Bones?" he asked. It was clear what she was doing. He just couldn't believe she was doing it.

"The shades are down. And the door is locked," she said, performing the action as she said the words. "And I've been wanting to make love to you in this office since it reopened. The only people left are security and the cleaning crew. And they won't come in until I reopen the shades." Unzipping her pants, she shimmied out of them and dropped them next to her shirt. "I think you're overdressed."

Groaning at the sight of her black bra and panty set, Booth knew she was right. "I'm sure Hodgins and Angela are around here somewhere," he pointed out. But he was reaching for the buckle of his belt.

By the time she crossed the room back to him, his shirt was off as well. "They won't come in," Brennan reassured him. Fingers dancing across his naked skin, she smiled up at him. "I think I know how you can thank me."

"Oh yeah?" he said, voice deepening. "I think that sounds better than flowers."

As his head descended toward hers, Brennan acknowledged to herself that she would believe in just about anything for Booth.

And she was okay with that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

_A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed our Halloween adventure. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, follow or favorite. It's nice to know there are still a few people reading out there. Writing actual cases into my stories is something I usually avoid, but I hope I answered the big questions and did it justice._

_Writing this was a lot of fun and I'm pleased with how it turned out. I hope all the readers out there feel the same._

_Until next time..._


End file.
